


True Nature

by Elianara



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alpha Sherlock, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Case Fic, Inexperienced Sherlock, M/M, Omega John, Omega Verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-20
Updated: 2017-09-04
Packaged: 2018-04-16 06:43:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 47,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4615212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elianara/pseuds/Elianara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Watson had no shame about his biology but no reverence for it either. He was an omega, he got on with it, end of story. If only Sherlock Holmes could make peace with being an alpha.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Previously posted on ff.net posting this and other WIP here as I update.

John Watson had no shame about his biology but no reverence for it either. He was an omega, he got on with it, end of story.

Heat suppressants were mandatory during combat tours in the army and he had kept using them after his discharge but every now and then he let a few heats happen naturally. Not so many that his whole life was dictated by them but enough to satisfy himself that his demanding diva of an omega reproductive system was still working because one day soon he just might want to bond, have a family.

Today though was not that day. He was methodically packing a bag to go and spend this heat as he had the last. With Lieutenant Billy Scott, an unbonded alpha he knew from his last tour. A younger man, who had no interest in bonding until his career was established and was more than keen to help John out with his heats. It was a good arrangement, they spent a few days in his flat shagging like rabbits and then parted with a hug. It was simple, honest. It wasn't what he wanted to do forever but for now it did him very well thank you very much.

Things generally had taken a turn for the better in the last few months following a rough spell after he left the army. He was getting regular locum work and was in a decent enough flat for the rent he was paying. Then there was his flatmate. The eccentric 'consulting detective' and his work kept John's life interesting, that is to say, just dangerous enough. More than that, Sherlock seemed to find sex, procreation and therefore John's omega status unspeakably dull - which made things easier.

Packing complete, John wrote a note to Sherlock, treble underlining BUY MILK, before sticking it to the fridge. He picked up his bag and keys and he headed for the door just as it was flung open. Sherlock looked like he'd been dragged through a hedge, literally. His precious coat was filthy and fragments of dead leaves were tangled in his hair.

' John, thought you'd be gone. You didn't miss much, barely a three.'

' You're bleeding. What happened?'

'Just bushes.' He said dismissively, shedding his coat and suit jacket to check for damage.

'Bushes with Stanley knives? This one looks like it needs stitches.' John had gone into medical mode, heat almost forgotten, as he gently prodded around a nasty gash on Sherlock's forearm.

'I'll get my kit and patch you up.' John dropped his bag at the door.

'Don't you need to...I mean, aren't you in a hurry ..?' Sherlock broke off awkwardly - actually blushing.

'Don't you start going all embarrassed on me. I get enough of that at work. Treating me like some delicate flower. I've got time.' John said, opening his medical bag.

'Besides it's not so bad the way I do it- heat. Getting shagged silly for a few days by a good looking soldier- much better than silicone.' He looked for a scandalized reaction from the detective as he laid out supplies, but his voice seemed to have barely registered-as usual. John knew he was more forthright than most omegas who were brought up to be pretty much ashamed of their heats.

He had Sherlock sit on a dining chair beside him. The injured arm resting on the table as he cleaned it. It wasn't as bad as he'd thought once the mud was gone and all that was needed was a proper clean and a bandage. As he worked he became aware of a faint scent, a scent that had to be from the last time Lestrade visited. The alpha policeman smelled lovely and John put it down to his heat because he'd never really noticed Lestrade in that way before.

It took a further few seconds for John to realise two things. One, Lestrade hadn't been to the flat in weeks and two the scent got stronger the more he leaned into Sherlock, which he was doing unconsciously, his head far closer than medically necessary to Sherlock's chest.

All at once John had kicked away his chair and backed into the wall, raw instinct moving him quickly. He stared at the detective, fingers curling into the paintwork.

'I'm not what you might call active.' Sherlock said calmly, standing and carefully moving towards the window. He appeared to be giving the, now frightened, omega space and access to the door. John made no attempt to leave.

He had long assumed the detective was a beta, an unusually arrogant one, but a beta nonetheless. They had never talked about it, but he'd had no scent, until now.

'How can you be around me and not be...you know.' John ran his eyes down Sherlock's body but there was no sign of arousal.

'Suppressant, I developed it myself. I missed an injection yesterday. The side effects are rather unpleasant, nausea and so on. I sometimes miss a dose, while I'm working. I don't feel it myself but the lower levels are obviously affecting my scent, especially with your approaching heat.' Sherlock stayed perfectly still.

' It's faint but-getting stronger.' John said chewing his lip but relaxing slightly. A hostile alpha would have cornered him by now- well, they would have tried. He'd seen off more than his fair share in the army.

'I assure you, you are having no effect on me. Can we sit?' Sherlock gestured towards the fireplace. They skirted the edges of the room before sitting in their respective chairs.

'Why would you want to suppress being an alpha?' John could not understand this for a second. He had made peace with his own body's complications-but to be an alpha. The control, dominance, a whole society that revolved around your need to breed.

Sherlock sat back in his chair, his body language neutral. ' In a word- distraction. Trying to think with the constant bombardment of smell- it's like trying to read in a crowded train carriage with a dozen conversations going on around you. Who's just had a heat, who's about to have one-dull. I don't know how other alphas stand it- or omegas for that matter. I decided quite young I'd rather have a clear head.'

'That simple?' John laughed in astonishment.

'You don't feel any urge-at all?'

The detective sighed as if the whole topic bored him. 'I get erections occasionally if that's what you mean.'

That had not been what John meant. Now though, he was imagining how Sherlock would look, arousal darkening his striking eyes and staining his skin. That ghost of delicious scent at full strength. It was all he could do not to cross the room and climb into the alpha' s lap. His traitorous omega body ready to lie down and open up- any urgency to leave gone.

_Hormones John just hormones._

He became aware of Sherlock studying him closely and he suddenly realised this heat was much further along than he thought, no doubt progressed by his flatmate's pheromones. His skin prickled and burned and he could feel the beginnings of an empty ache, almost like a hunger, that he knew would scarcely leave him for days.

'It probably is time for you to go. I'll call you a cab.' The detective stood and John became aware that he was standing too, a few scant feet from his flatmate.

John's limbs would barely cooperate as Sherlock saw him downstairs and into the cab. He let the omega rest against his shoulder as he chaperoned him across the city.

It would only be a few days later, as John let the blissful steam of a hot shower clear the last chemical vestiges of heat from his brain that he would remember. Sherlock. The alpha' s slim body trapped between John and the wall of the deserted lobby in Billy Scott's building. John couldn't remember how they'd got there or what he said, typical heat stuff probably, telling Sherlock how wet he was, begging to be knotted- now. He did remember the look of utter panic on Sherlock's face before he firmly took John's arm and led him to the other alpha' s door.


	2. Chapter 2

Sherlock stalked around the crime scene, crouching to examine something now and then, occasionally returning Donovan's glare.

He had solved it within minutes of seeing the body, his wife had killed him (dull) though she had moved the body to the building site the deceased worked on with the help of her lover, confusing the issue (pathetically slightly) by staging the most appalling fake fall he'd ever seen.

Barely a four and if the pathologist hadn't trampled the scene like the moron he was it would have been a three. It wasn't worth his time really but he was grateful for anything that provided the slightest distraction. Even Mycroft was no help at the moment, off fixing some mess or other in the far east.

John's words as he had pressed against him, a needy, glorious mess played back breathlessly in his head.

_'Tell me you don't want this.'_

When they had talked in the flat he had barely been aware of John's scent. By the time he had seen him safely to the other alpha's door he was drowning in it. Chemically speaking, it must have been some sort of pheromone feedback loop, exacerbated by the confined space in the cab, his suppressant wearing off. He understood the mechanism but still couldn't help being pulled under by it. He had wanted to ask the driver, an already disgusted beta, to turn around and take them back to Baker Street. To take John into his bed and do whatever it took to give him relief and pleasure. The relief and pleasure he was now getting from someone else. A proper, dominant, experienced alpha. He forced his mind back to the case, such as it was.

Unable to spin things out any longer, he launched into the usual quick fire explanation, adding in a few dramatic touches for the benefit of two uniforms, who were staring at him starstruck and Donovan who (to his satisfaction) looked as if she was close to hitting him.

Ten minutes later Lestrade was walking him out through the cordoned off site. He had hoped the case would occupy him for hours or, better still, days but now he had no reason not to go home where he knew that he was likely to lie on the sofa with John's forgotten (wonderful smelling) scarf bundled on his chest. The same way he'd spent the last two days.

As they walked through the half-finished building he answered a question from Lestrade about John's whereabouts with a blush and fumbled words. Grateful when the Inspector started to describe a particularly gory cold case he was working on as a way to cover the awkwardness. It was just getting interesting when they both heard the flap of heavy polyethylene. They looked at each other for a second- the day was windless-before Sherlock took off in the direction of the noise. Lestrade following behind, shouting into his radio.

|Sherlock soon caught sight of a young man running for the nearest exit down a narrow passage in the scaffolding. He made after him deducing as he went. The lover. A gym-maintained physique, probably how they met. No suggestion of martial arts or combat training-good to know in these circumstances. They quickly ran out of passage. The man faced Sherlock.

'You police?' He panted. Sherlock took his time with the reply. He could hear Lestrade and at least four others moving closer.

'Not really.' Sherlock noted the brick in the man's hand and could practically hear the wheels turning in his head as panic set in.

When he moved Sherlock was ready for him ,dodging the brick and kicking a half empty bag of plaster into his path, Lestrade and two uniforms now visible through the dust cloud.

That was when he overbalanced. The hand he put out to steady himself meeting yielding polythene rather than the solid wall he'd expected. He fell inelegantly through the hole, feet scrabbling for solid ground that was too far away. His leg was a sudden mass of agony, the crunch of bone breaking reverberating through him as the rest of his body flopped heavily to the ground.

##########

 _Mortified_.

There was no other word to describe how John felt as he unlocked the front door and quietly climbed the stairs, steeling himself to face Sherlock. It had been heat stuff. He couldn't help it, very possibly wasn't even remembering a lot of it (thank God) but he still wanted to crawl under a rock in embarrassment.

He knew he should, first and foremost, be livid with the detective, hiding what he was. John also knew it was pointless. Sherlock just wasn't wired like everyone else, probably didnt even see the issue. He had, however, made _very_ clear there wasn't some plan to have his wicked way with John.

_More was the pity._

He shook the thought away as he opened the flat door. It was mercifully empty and smelled of pine floor cleaner, Mrs Hudson's calling card. He dropped his bag and flopped into his chair.

He had spent most of the more lucid parts of his heat vaguely fantasizing about the detective. There was something in the way he handled the violin, the intensity he brought to his work. Something that had been compelling since they'd met but now, with biological compatibility in the mix, was a lot more complicated.

He knew that Sherlock, even if he was interested in omegas, would be out of his league. Sherlock Holmes would doubtless want someone younger, prettier, with bluer blood and maybe even a nice trust fund to supplement his own. He would have no use for a pensioned army veteran with a bad leg.

His thoughts were interrupted by the door.

'Oh John you're home didn't Greg get you?' Mrs Hudson bustled in, a pair of Sherlock's pyjama bottoms and a T-shirt draped over one arm.

'What's wrong?' John said. The landlady didn't usually touch their stuff.

'He's only broken his bloody ankle. Fell through a wall chasing a murderer.'

'Of course he did.' John said dryly, another one of Sherlock's nine lives gone.

'You know what he's like. Racing about, no food no sleep. Violin at all hours. I'm going to take his pyjamas and things in at visiting. Better look lively, I'll need to get a cab in half an hour. You'll come won't you?' She said, making for the bathroom.

'Yeah of course.' John said reluctantly. He didn't particularly want his first conversation with Sherlock after everything to be in front of an audience. Then again he didn't want to face him alone.

'Why are they keeping him in?' John asked doing a quick inventory of the kitchen, no sign of much having been eaten while he was gone. No milk bought either.

'Something to do with his blood tests.' Mrs Hudson said, putting shampoo and the pyjamas into an overnight bag.

'He didn't say much. Meet me downstairs when you're ready.'

John shook off the post-heat urge to sleep and tried to think if there was anything else he could usefully take to the detective in hospital. He gathered a couple of issues of a forensics journal and a cold case file Lestrade had given Sherlock before going downstairs.

Sherlock had a good sized private room. Whether this was Mycroft pulling strings from a distance or the nurses pissed off with him deducing staff and patients alike every five minutes wasn't clear. John couldn't decide if he was grateful for the privacy or not.

There were two typically uncomfortable hospital chairs at the side of his bed and John let Mrs Hudson take the one nearest his head. The landlady chattered about about new carpet and the state of the fridge for a solid fifteen minutes. He avoided Sherlock's gaze and the detective avoided his.

It was a relief when Lestrade turned up halfway through and John could give up his chair under the pretence of going and seeing someone he knew from medical school. He came back ten minutes later to find Lestrade helping Mrs Hudson into her coat.

'I'll give you both a lift back if you want to leave now, I need to go back to the Yard to sign off on something.' Greg said.

'I'll stay till the end of visiting, there's a couple of other people I should go and see while I'm here anyway.' John lied through his teeth. He needed to at least try and clear the air.

Mrs Hudson made an unappreciated fuss of Sherlock, kissing him on the forehead, and they left. John awkwardly circled the room, pausing to take in the fine view of the loading bay from the window before the silence was broken by an exasperated sigh from the detective.

'For God's sake John sit down.'

John came to sit, in the closer chair this time, resting his folded hands on the edge of the bed. 'Look, I'm sorry. I know I must have been a bloody nightmare, especially for, well, someone like you. Next time I'll make sure I'm well gone out of the flat before I'm anywhere close to starting...'

'It's fine.' The detective broke in. 'No reason why you should have to leave home just to make me more comfortable.'

'Now, ask me about the case.' Sherlock said, shuffling himself up the bed. They neatly avoided any further mention of heat or related subjects for the next ten minutes. Sherlock describing the murder in great detail, obviously unimpressed by the whole business. John, happy the awkwardness seemed to have gone, flicked through one of the journals he had brought, looking for a relevant bit on fall injuries he had read. When he looked up the detective had dosed off, his mouth slightly open, his face softened by sleep. John instinctively adjusted his pillows and blankets as best he could without waking him.

There was only ten minutes of visiting left and John knew he should really go but sitting so close he was drawn to Sherlock's scent all over again. Post heat it soothed rather than inflamed and he felt his own drowsiness catching up with him. He rested, just for a second, on the scratchy blanket, his head pillowed on his arms next to the detective, somehow ridiculously comfortable.

#########

'Dr Watson?' The voice penetrated the fog of sleep.

'You're a bit past visiting I'm afraid.'

John rubbed his hand over his face and looked round at a pretty blonde female omega. Hands shoved deep in the pockets of her lab coat.

'Sorry-I must have dosed off.' He sat up everything was stiff, he was embarrassed to note he had been resting against Sherlock's leg but the detective slept on oblivious. 'No problem, that's the longest he's slept since he got here, he's been driving the nurses batty. Besides, I wanted to talk to you. I'm Dr Sloan.'

She jerked her head towards the corridor. John followed, stretching his spine as they went into the relatives room opposite.

The room was fairly cheerful as these places go, the air faintly perfumed with a bunch of carnations in a vase. The doctor sat on the small sofa and looked at her notes.

'Can I ask what you are to each other?' She smiled pleasantly, professionally.

'He's my flatmate. We've lived together about four months I think.' The doctor looked surprised and scribbled something.

'Well, the thing is his brother asked that you be treated as next of kin in his absence.' She raised her eyes and read John's blank expression.

'First I've heard of it, though Mycroft does like to delegate. I did wonder why he was kept in?' John asked.

'I'm guessing this may be the first of you've heard of this too but he's being transferred tomorrow to a private clinic. Armadale House it treats drug problems mostly, though that isn't his problem this time. How much do you know about alpha suppressant?'

'Very little, I know he was taking it, told me he developed it himself.'

' Something similar gets used in the prison service, a last resort for very violent alphas. They keep it quiet for obvious reasons. The stuff he's been taking is probably a bit more refined but we have to assume he'll still get some of the side effects.'

'He did mention dizziness and nausea.'

' Good chance that's how he fell. At the moment we're more worried about the way it can inhibit healing. He needs to come off it to let his ankle heal – hence the rehab.'

'So you're saying he has to be committed to come off suppressant? Seems a bit drastic. Is this Mycroft?' Sherlock's brother could interfere for Britain (Come to think of it, that's sort of what he did for a living.) but this was extreme even for him.

'Dr Watson, this is all Sherlock himself. I think...' The Doctor looked at him awkwardly. 'I think his brother may have requested you as next of kin because he thinks you could help.' She finished.

Suddenly the penny dropped with John. Mycroft thought John would be a compliant omega the catch-all solution to any alpha hormone problem according to some people- no wonder Mycroft had offered him so much money when he had moved in with Sherlock at first.

'You're suggesting what, I become his fuck-buddy?' The irritation in John's voice was obvious.

Dr Sloan blushed and rolled her eyes. 'Hardly Dr Watson. How far off a heat are you?'

'Just finished, early hours of this morning.'

'Ideal, your pheromones should be mostly calming. All I'm suggesting is you take him home sit with him. Maybe sleep in the same room.' In John's exhausted state Dr Sloan seemed irritatingly cool.

'You think that's all it will take? He was unconvinced.

'Look I'm not saying he won't get – _twitchy_ – but he's going to be hobbling about for the next couple of weeks, full of painkillers. You look like you can handle it. You do trust him don't you? I mean you looked close earlier.'

'Of course I trust him.' John said simply, convinced of that at least.

'When can I take him home?'


	3. Chapter 3

_Are you sure? SH_

_I'm sure. Pick you up at 2. JW_

John responded with a confidence he didn't feel as he sipped his tea and clicked on another link. He had started on this research as an afterthought but was now wishing he hadn't bothered. That is, if trawling the web for forum posts counted as research, it wasn't exactly the BMJ. He knew he was homing in on the worst aspects of alpha suppressant but still, aggression, agitation and 'bizarre personality changes' were regularly reported. It didn't help that Sherlock's personality could charitably be described as eccentric at the best if times. John decisively closed the browser and snapped the laptop shut.

Practically speaking at least, he was organised and the soldier in him took comfort in that. He had moved the sofa into Sherlock's room and made it up as a bed with the help of a bemused Mrs Hudson (who had always assumed they were a couple and refused to be persuaded differently). He had gone out early to stock up on the sort of thing he thought Sherlock should be eating (vegetables, chicken) and the sort of thing he would eat even if he was being awkward (essentially posh biscuits). He had tidied extensively, moving the numerous trip hazards around the flat. Hopefully Sherlock wouldn't even notice that the piles of 'research' had been merged.

Finally he had spent a good half an hour rearranging the area around Sherlock's chair so that everything he could want was within easy reach. It was such a nurturing, such an omega thing to do he annoyed himself.

The only thing left was to tell Mycroft. He quickly fired off a text and within seconds his phone was vibrating with an unknown number.

'John, just wanted to let you know it's much appreciated.' There was a creak in the background and John imagined Mycroft leaning back in a heavy leather chair in some far flung outpost of the Diogenes Club.

' I'm not doing it for you Mycroft.' There was something about the older Holmes that rubbed John the wrong way.

'Regardless, the idea of him going back to that place.' John could practically hear Mycroft's face contort into twisted distaste. Though he could well see his point. It couldn't be a good idea to put a vulnerable but extremely resourceful recovering addict somewhere like Armadale unless you had to. Even with the best places, and John assumed the Holmeses would use the very best, there was the risk of a desperate patient getting contraband in and Sherlock succumbing to old habits.

'I still don't understand why he wanted to go there in the first place.'

'He's an intensely private man John. Lives inside his own head, perhaps he just wanted the space to deal with things in there.'

'Well I'd rather he dealt with them out here in this flat. The real world'

' You're right of course. If you need anything I will send a number you can call.'

Anything like what? I am actually a doctor Mycroft.'

'The offer is there John. Goodbye'

'Bye Mycroft.'

John immediately scooped up his keys, leaving the flat before he could change his mind.

##############

The first day or so passed in a blur of tea, bad tv and acute boredom.

The cold case John had brought him in hospital needed leg work, literally, but he was obviously in no state to do that. He could ask John but was somehow reluctant for the omega to go out working by himself. Partly it was because Sherlock was a control freak when it came to the work but mainly it was his alpha brain coming back on-line. He knew, on some level, he wanted to protect the post-heat, newly bred omega. It was distracting nonsense. John Watson, Captain Watson, would have laughed at the notion of needing such protection from him-and rightly so.

Lestrade came to visit on the second day and brought another couple of files. Sherlock was particularly pleased to see the yellowing pages of a genuinely old case along with the violent death Lestrade had described to him the day he broke his ankle. John would likely have told him it was inappropriate to think so, since someone had died, but there was almost a romance to really old cases.

Ignoring his guest he sat and began to read the fragile pages of the older file. What looked at first sight to be a straightforward murder of a brutish alpha by an omega at the end of their tether was complicated by an apparently airtight alibi. He was halfway through the first statement before he tuned back in to what was going on in the room, which, he suddenly realised, stank of alpha.

'What they paid for that waste of skin and he goes and does that.' John gestured toward the telly.

Lestrade and John, well-used to Sherlock's self-contained way of working, were sitting on the sofa watching football. Lestrade had brought beer, nicer than the stuff John usually bought for himself, and they were both halfway down a bottle. Every couple of minutes they would shout at something on the screen that Sherlock had no intention of taking the time to understand. In between they had a lively discussion going about the merits of various players. John, who had begged the detective to do all manner of things to him days before, was grinning and laughing with the other alpha. Lestrade looked so in control of who and what he was and Sherlock felt awkward and adolescent by comparison.

A choking jealousy rose in his chest closely followed by frustration because he knew this was hormones, his reproductive system sputtering unpredictably to life. Precisely the sort of thing he had avoided for so long, he didn't want this, didn't want the interruption to the work, to his state of mind.

He would have flounced from the room but the most his crutches would accommodate was a graceless hobble.

'You Ok?' Lestrade sounded genuinely concerned, which rather took the wind out of his sails.

'Fine, just going to lie down where it's quiet.' He made to leave but John pointedly slid his eyes in Lestrade' s direction.

'Thank you for the files.' Sherlock said, with, he thought, no less sincerity than usual.

'No problem, thought you might appreciate a historical flavour, if you get anywhere with those you'll make me a hero.' Lestrade said' half looking at the screen.

As Sherlock left the room the television erupted into cheering and John grabbed Lestrade excitedly by the arm.

Sherlock lay on his bed and half-listened until the background of cheers gave way to the drone of post match analysis and finally the front door opening as Lestrade left.

He wandered back through to the kitchen where John was now washing dishes from dinner.

'If you're looking for your pills you'll have to give it at least another hour.' John said rinsing suds from a plate.

Sherlock shifted, leaning himself against the counter next to him.

'Lestrade is very _alpha_ isn't he?' He said casually, he wasn't quite sure what he meant but it introduced the subject.

'He's decent, and a good detective by all accounts, not sure if that makes him ' very alpha'.' The response was carefully diplomatic. John glanced at him with a smile.

'Does he bother you? I mean, are you feeling really aggressive or anything? The doctor did say you might...' John's brow was furrowed and the look was too clinical for Sherlock's liking.

'It's fine, I wasn't about to attack him. I just - I'd forgotten what this was like, with both of you here.' Sherlock gazed blankly at the floor.

'It'll get better, you just need to get used to it how is, well, being around me?'

'I like it.'

John turned sharply to look at him. He hadn't meant to be so blunt. He was blushing hotly still staring at the floor, anxious at what he would see in John's face. The omega turned back to the sink, wringing out a cloth and moving to wipe down the counter.

'That's normal- it's good.' John ran the cloth across the surface in slow deliberate swipes. The possessive urge Sherlock had been containing all night suddenly broke free and he stepped closer, when John turned back round there was barely an inch of air between them. They stood for a few beats.

John was obviously fighting his own body's urge to submit, it could be read in the tilt of his face,the softening of his shoulders. Sherlock felt an (unwelcome) stab of pride because Lestrade hadn't had this effect on the omega. He wanted to touch John's hair but his balance was too off with the crutches. The omega arched expectantly.

'I'll go to bed.' Sherlock said finally. Turning awkwardly and limping away.

'You'll need to get back up for you pills.' John called after him but got no response.

################

John woke to a dull throb. The sofa was fine most of the time but it didn't always agree with his bad shoulder. He turned to pick up his phone from the floor beside him and startled at the figure perched on the the arm of the sofa until he recognised the profile.

' I didn't mean to wake you.' Sherlock said, staring ahead.

'What are you doing up?' John shuffled into a sitting position, squinting.

'Restless. A bit sore.'

'Come through, I'll make some tea. I could do with a couple of ibuprofen myself anyway.'

John picked up his phone. Three o'clock. He had to get up in three hours for a morning surgery.

The detective got to the small kitchen first and to John's surprise immediately started clumsily filling the kettle and getting mugs out of the cupboard. John got himself a glass of water and the packet of ibuprofen. He sat at the table checking that the surface was covered in nothing that could be corrosive before he rested his elbows and swallowed a couple of pills.

'I'm sorry about earlier. I didn't mean to scare you.' Sherlock said carefully moving two steaming mugs to the table and dropping heavily into a chair.

'You didn't. If you'd scared me I'd have had you on the floor. Broken ankle or not. What was that about?' John tentatively sipped his tea. That wasn't actually quite true, he'd had a few seconds of panic when the alpha towered over him but it was as much to do with his own response as Sherlock's clumsy attempt at-something.

'I wanted to...Well, to scent you. It's a long time since I've done anything like that. I'm sorry.' The blush was back (the blush was lovely John had decided) and the detective focussed his eyes on the tip of one finger which circled the rim of his mug.

John tried not to imagine Sherlock scenting him, the intimacy of skin on skin, of being claimed. He attempted to think of it in medical terms. The instinctive response to invasion of perceived territory by another alpha. It didn't mean anything real.

'Thats fine, I know it's just hormones. There was someone then? Before you started with suppressant?' John had suspected as much.

'At university, I had a friend, an omega,Victor. We were both young and naive, one thing led to another. I never shared a heat with him though, never got the chance.' The detective sipped his tea pensively.

' I was staying with him during the holidays and I deduced his father. It was something I was just learning to do, for amusement, an intellectual exercise. Anyway I picked up something of his previous life, a concealed life. It was awkward, especially when a man from his past turned up. He became ill and died suddenly around the same time. Victor blamed me on some level, totally irrational of course. He moved to the far east, finished his degree there. He still stays out there, I believe he's happily bonded now.'

John felt sort of privileged to have heard the story, Sherlock gave so little of himself away normally. He had long assumed the detective had some sexual history, he was too attractive, too curious to have entirely avoided that aspect of life.

'That's when you started suppressant?' John asked, leaning forward in a fruitless attempt to catch his eye.

'No, unfortunately that's when I started cocaine. Suppressant was Mycroft's idea, much later, when he'd dragged me out of one too many bad situations. He thought it would be one less trigger for me to get high, and he was right. He pulled some strings and got me some of what they use in prisons. Terrible rough stuff it was but it at least put part of my brain at rest. So I developed my own and used it, until now.' The detective looked at him over the rim of his cup.

'Have you ever had anyone? A special alpha?' Sherlock's voice dripped sarcasm (among other more appealing things) but defensive sarcasm so John let it go.

'No one long-term since before I was in the army. Most alphas don't want a bondmate that thinks for themselves let alone one that works in a war zone.'

'Most alphas are morons.' Sherlock said, getting up and stretching. 'I think I'll take my pills and go back to bed.'

'Why were you sitting next to me earlier?' John asked quickly, knowing the answer but wanting to hear it.

'I should have thought that was obvious, I was restless, I thought being closer to your scent might relax me. That is why you're in my room isn't it?' Sherlock said, tossing his head to swallow the painkillers.

'Yeah, of course, that's what I thought, just checking you weren't trying to harvest me for experiments or something.'

The detective disappeared back to the bedroom. John put the mugs in the sink and followed to find him on the sofa in his former spot.

'I hope you don't mind, I thought I might sit and think for a while.'

'I'm not a distraction then?' John smiled. 'Its fine, actually if you didn't mind we could both lie on the bed.' The detective's eyebrows shot up.

'I just meant you perched there, the sofa killing my shoulder-seems daft with all that nice high thread count going begging. I'll lie on top of the covers of course.'

Sherlock nodded, got up and flopped unceremoniously into his bed. 'Here, you'll be freezing otherwise.' He said, tossing John a soft grey blanket, which felt suspiciously like cashmere.

###############

Finished-according to the screen at least.

John stretched out his shoulders in a small celebration. Last night's interrupted sleep was taking its toll and the morning surgery had been busy. An early emergency of an elderly lady who 'didn't want to bother the doctor' with her chest pain had given way to a never-ending line of people with cystitis, flu and assorted tummy troubles. He hadn't even had a chance to think about last night, or this morning, when he'd woken up curled around a sound asleep but obviously aroused alpha.

He sighed at the tap on the door but painted on a professional smile as he called on whoever it was to come in.

'Got a minute Dr Watson?'

'Of course, as long as I won't need rubber gloves.' John smiled, relieved it was Lestrade. 'What's on your mind?'

Lestrade sat in the patients chair and looked so awkward that for a moment John thought he did have an embarrassing medical problem.

'How would you fancy a spot of moonlighting? Pays of course.'

John nodded as he started to tidy up his paperwork and shut down his computer.

'Could be interested.'

'I've gotten myself mixed up in some undercover work. You heard of Jim Graeme?'

'Some sort of property developer isn't he?'

'Some sort is right. We know he's into drugs but nothing we can use in court. Now we think he's involved in omega smuggling as well- actually I'm certain of it. You remember that boy a couple of months ago killed by his mate in a stupid fight?'

John nodded. He remembered it well, Sherlock's services hadn't been needed but it had been in all the papers for days.

'Graeme comes from that area, funds a lot of community stuff there. So after that he sent me an invitation to some reception at a new building of his. Big press launch all about how he's helping 'build for the future'. I'm just about to put it in the bin but decide at the last minute to let internal affairs know, given his background. So I fire off an email and half an hour later I'm summoned to a meeting.' Greg paused to check John was still following.

'See,they know he has cops that he's paying off, they just don't know who. Turns out they'd been waiting on somebody to get approached for ages. Someone who went to them with it anyway. They ask if I mind playing along for a bit, seeing what I can find out.'

'Why you though?' John said sitting back in his chair.

' Basically because I've been passed over for promotion, I'm within a few years of retirement and -since the divorce- I'm pretty much broke. I'm a textbook target.' Greg grimaced, running his hand through his hair.

'Where do I come in?' John ignored his friend's obvious embarrassment.

'That's where it's a bit awkward. I need you to pretend to be my fiance. There's no male omegas in my division that we can be certain he's not seen. I could get an officer from another area but I'd rather have someone I know, who I'm confident can handle themselves If it gets rough. Not that it's likely to but you never know.'

'I can see myself doing that.' John said, he loved that his job allowed him to help people but he couldn't deny that in civilian life he sometimes longed for a little more excitement. Generally he got that from Sherlock but a little more couldn't hurt. John tried not to look too keen.

'How do you come to need a fiance?'

'At the weekend he took me to this nightclub he has a share in. Flash place, made me feel about a hundred but anyway, it was going well. He was a bit pissed and he was moving in the direction of making me a serious offer, you know, cash. Suddenly he decides he wants to take me through the back. Says he's got a surprise for me. So I'm thinking the worst. We go through to this room, just as flash as the rest of the place but with a naked girl lying on a bed. John, you should have seen her. Her eyes were so - gone - and she had this blotchy flush everywhere.'

'Forced heat.'John said quietly.

'I mean I obviously wouldn't but - I couldn't think straight'

' Chemically forced heats often produce much higher levels of the hormones...' John started in his best patient GP tone.

I know all that.' The alpha cut him off and waved his hand dismissively, end of discussion.

'Anyway that's why I needed a fiance quick. It was an excuse not to touch the girl. I thought if I said I had a male omega it would be more convincing. I was on the spot, it was the best I could come up with.'

'OK.' John thoughtfully chewed his lip. 'I'm interested, what would I have to do?'

'Appreciate it John. Won't Sherlock mind though?'

'Do you see a bond bite?' John tilted his neck to emphasise the point. 'Its up to me. Though I will talk to him obviously. So?'

Greg nodded. 'Can you come with me to the nightclub on Thursday? Shouldn't be too dodgy. You might be able to help, see if any of the omegas around know anything about the trafficking.'

'OK, what if I come to your office tomorrow, you can give me a bit more detail?'

'Yeah- actually no, best you stay away from the yard, just in case your seen. That little pub along from you, six tomorrow?'

'OK, see you then.'

The detective left and John realised he had one more to add to his list of awkward Sherlock conversations.


	4. Chapter 4

Sherlock woke up hard, nothing particularly strange in that. It happened every so often and he usually dealt with it quickly and efficiently, like any other inconvenience of the transport. This time though, he was weighed down with sleeping John Watson, arousing and soothing all at once.

He lay, too afraid to move, for what couldn't have been more than ten minutes before John's phone vibrated to life with the alarm. The omega shifted and he realised his situation was likely to be obvious even in the half light and through layers of fabric. He feigned sleep. Not moving until John had left the room and he heard the shower running. There was an unexpected emptiness to the relief he felt soon after as he as spilled into his own hand.

He hadn't slept next to, let alone touching anyone like this since Victor. They had only ever managed the occasional stolen nap. Curled together on a single bed in halls of residence after they had clumsily gotten each other off. Sherlock, ever the scientist, had been fascinated by how much pleasure he was able to give the omega with his hands and mouth.

He remembered how they had talked, shyly at first, of how they would spend their first heat together (Victor always spoke of it as 'our heat'). Victor had planned to stay on suppressants till the end of exams but after a few days at his father's house they planned to go to Scotland and let nature take its course. Victor had the idea of spending the time in cosy isolation at his aunt's lochside holiday cottage. After that (and Victor had dropped huge hints they'd be bonded by then) they were going to do a little tour of the Highlands finishing in Glasgow, indulging Victors fascination for both the scenery and all things Charles Rennie Mackintosh. Of course it had never got that far Sherlock had said the wrong thing, been the wrong thing, and drove Victor away.

#######

John got home mid-afternoon in dire need of a nap. He was surprised to find Sherlock was doing the same. He'd obviously been working. His mug was precariously abandoned on one of the magazine piles on the coffee table and the wall behind had a semi-circle of post it's around an old wedding photograph and a street map.

He gently opened Sherlock's bedroom door. The alpha was wrapped in the blanket John had borrowed the night before, gently snoring. He decided, given how he'd woken up this morning, to go to his own bed for a change. He climbed the stairs to his neglected room, stripping to his underwear before crawling gratefully under the duvet.

He woke a couple of hours later to the smell of cooking, of food cooking. Only in 221b would he ever have to make that distinction. He got up, dressing in his slightly crumpled clothes from earlier, and wandered downstairs. He had expected to see Mrs Hudson pottering about but instead Sherlock was clearing vegetable peelings from the table, the sleeves of his white dress shirt rolled to his elbows.

'You've cooked.' John rubbed still sleepy eyes.

'Obviously. You were planning to make chicken casserole weren't you?' He said, stirring the pan.

'I didn't know you could.' John flopped into the nearest chair.

'Well of course I can. The chemistry involved is very basic. I just usually choose not to, I tend to have better uses for my time. I thought, since you'd gone back to work...'

'Yeah thanks it's... thoughtful.' One of the adjectives he'd never have thought to use in relation to Sherlock Holmes.

'I'll just have a quick shower first.'

When he'd showered, changed and properly woken up he went back to the kitchen. Sherlock was ladling casserole into bowls. They sat and ate in companionable silence. The detective eating, for him, reasonably well.

'You went to your own bed.' Sherlock said suddenly as he pushed his mostly empty bowl away.

'Yeah, you were asleep so I decided I'd be comfier.'

'You could have...Well it's up to you.' Sherlock sprung up to clear the table.

'Was it because of this morning?' The detective said, slowly rinsing dishes, eyes fixed on them like they were a delicate experiment.

Ah, not asleep then.

' Yeah but not the way you think. I thought about it, lying beside you but I didn't want to take advantage.'

The alpha shot him a look. 'Shouldn't that be my line?'

'Hardly, at least not in our circumstances. What I mean is, the whole point of us sleeping beside each other is to give you a soft landing from the suppressant. Not to get you all hot and bothered.' John cringed at his own poor choice of words.

Tension was obvious in the line of Sherlock's shoulders under his shirt as he gripped the side of the sink. John got up to reach out for him and hesitated. He suddenly longed for the easy physical contact of their previous simple relationship. When he'd think nothing of reaching into Sherlock's jacket for his ringing phone.

Sod it.

John closed the space between them laying his hand on Sherlock's arm, squeezing lightly.

'Its just hormones Sherlock, yours and mine and whatever happens when the two get together. For what it's worth, I was sort of flattered. It's a nice way to wake up, wrapped around someone who obviously enjoys it. It's not like you were forcing yourself on me.' Sherlock shyly looked up from the sink. John smiled. 'It's been a while since that's happened.'

'During your heats though..?'

'Not the same, no time in a heat for anything so relaxed, it gets a bit -frantic.' John saw what he recognised as curiosity flit across the alpha' s face.

Sherlock raised a soapy hand and John didn't complain as he ran it through his hair. Pulling John towards him he kissed the top of his head. They stayed like that for a few seconds, inhaling each other. John was now remembering how, that morning after he'd reluctantly untangled his limbs from aroused alpha, he'd got himself off in the shower and he couldn't help but wonder if Sherlock had done the same.

_What a bloody waste._

A rogue rivulet of cooling dish water ran into John's collar and made him jump, breaking the spell. They drew away simultaneously, Sherlock to his washing up and John to a previously unknown fascination with the cruet set.

The whole conversation about the undercover thing suddenly seemed like a welcome change of subject.

'So I spoke to Greg this morning. He's got a job for me, could be dangerous.'

###############

The slight background buzz of after work drinkers surrounded them as Greg, with a careful glance round, passed him an envelope. Even Sherlock would have to concede he'd been thorough.

The timeline of their engagement was carefully mapped out. Where they'd met (in a supermarket) and how long they'd been together (nine months, but only openly since Greg's divorce became final). John's own history, work and so on, matched the cover story other than the last few months. There were also copies of parts of the Yard's Graeme file, his business interests (legal and otherwise) and his surprisingly normal private life. He'd been bonded for the better part of eight years to Melissa, a childhood sweetheart. John put the papers away to read properly at home later.

'What did he say then?' Greg asked, sipping his pint.

'Like you would expect, pissed off he's not involved. He seemed to get a bit protective as well.' John had hated himself a little for being pleased that he had this effect on his flatmate.

'Just like normal between you two then.' Greg said smiling.

' The protective thing's new.'

'I meant you. Charging round London after him with that Browning you think I don't know about.'

John had thought he was getting away with the gun, not least because harmless little omegas wouldn't be expected to know what to do with them. The element of surprise had got them out of trouble more than once.

'He needs someone to watch his back.' John said.

'You don't seem to have any problem watching him full stop.' Greg looked at him with a suggestive grin and John seemed to suddenly find the pitted table top fascinating.

'Can we talk about tomorrow ?' John said, desparate to change the subject.

'Fine, just- if you are interested, don't leave it too long OK? If he manages to stay off suppressant his family will probably want him married off to some posh omega with the right pedigree and I think he'd go through the motions for a quiet life. Poor thing'd be wondering how they ended up with a mansion full of test tubes and bits of people.' John laughed at this.

'Sherlock Holmes can stand to be in a room with three people for more than five minutes. Me, you and Mrs Hudson and I don't think me and Mrs H are his type.' Greg finished.

'So, tomorrow night?' John persisted and Greg took pity.

'I'll pick you up at nine. It should just be us, Graeme, his omega and a couple of his management, unbonded alphas. The last time we sat in this private mezzanine above the main bar. The door at the back leads to where he had the girl last time. For all I know there's a full brothel behind there.'

'You're not tempted to take a look?'

'No, well yeah, but not yet. We need something solid, a proper warrant, everything by the book. Don't you be looking either. It should go without saying but don't be going solo on me. Talking to people is fine but no sneaking away. Apart from anything else, you're supposed to be my demure fiance.' Greg raised his eyebrows.

'I'll try.' John grinned.

'I should go, I've got reports to write.' Greg swallowed the last of his pint and got up to leave.

'One last thing..' The alpha bent over to talk in his ear.

'No bloody gun.'

###############

John examined the fit of the shirt in the immaculate expanse of mirror.

He didn't normally shop in these places, even if he wanted the over -attentive staff and vanilla scented fitting room he couldn't afford it but Sherlock had insisted.

They had left the flat for the morning on John's suggestion. The detective was practically vibrating with boredom. John knew some of it needed burned off if he wanted to come home from work to a flat that smelled normal and was free of scorch marks, besides, it was time he got out into the real world. A visit to a crime scene from one of the old cases was the plan. It was likely to bring Sherlock into contact with a few alphas and omegas. Enough to get him used to the constant scents but not so much he'd get overloaded, that was the theory.

Buying John 'one decent shirt' as a thank you on the way had been Sherlock's suggestion. The alpha sat on a chair in the corner of the fitting room with coffee that had appeared from nowhere while John tried on a succession of shirts. The two omega assistants left the room with sidelong glances at Sherlock, exploding into giggles as they passed out of sight. John glanced at one price tag, a shirt in a similar shade of purple to one of Sherlock's, and nearly dropped the thing.

'Don't be like that John, I'm buying, besides it can only help if Lestrade is known to have an omega with expensive tastes.' Their eyes met briefly in the mirror.

'Ok, I'll take this one then-and thanks. You didn't need to get me anything. It's just not something I'd have done, left you in hospital on your own.'

'It has helped I think-and it's appreciated.' Sherlock said, his tone unusually sincere.

'Of course, as you would say the chemistry is very basic.' John smiled at him as he changed into his own clothes. Gratitude from Sherlock was a rare thing. There was another giggle from outside.

'You've got quite a fan club out there.' John nodded towards the noise.

'Perhaps they read your blog.' Sherlock hoisted himself to his feet with the crutches, a movement that over the last few days he had somehow made fluid and elegant.

'I don't mean they're fans of your deductive skills as you well know. We best pay for this before someone goes into a spontaneous heat.'

'Dull.' Sherlock rolled his eyes as they walked out into the shop, the staff were all suspiciously busy around one display with a good view of the fitting room door.

'You wouldn't be saying that if one of them was near a heat, nice young things like that.' John said quietly. Sherlock stopped dead in front of him.

' For your information one of them is about to go into a heat and I have no interest in 'young things' as you put it.' Sherlock leaned in close to his ear as he whispered, a far from unpleasant sensation, and looked vaguely offended as he left John standing in the middle of the shop while he paid for the shirt.

John sniffed unobtrusively. There was a faint spicy musk in the air, the ridiculous vanilla candles in the fitting room had been masking it.

They left the shop and got into a cab, travelling into a part of town John was unfamiliar with. It had the look of somewhere halfway to being fashionable, like most of London seemed to these days, the shop windows advertising organic this and artisanal that. Sherlock ignored all this and headed straight for an alley off a side street.

'Not a recent crime scene then?' John looked around at the newly laid concrete. He felt faintly silly carrying the shirt in an embossed white bag with a flourish of cerise tissue paper coming out of the top.

'New Years Eve 1949. An alpha was killed in this alley. His omega was the prime suspect, his behaviour gave her plenty of motive, but she was working three streets away in a busy pub.'

'So someone else then?'

'Yes but something...something is wrong here.' Sherlock moved around looking at the area from different angles before snapping a couple of pictures with his phone. He then propped one crutch against the wall, pulled out one of Lestrade's stolen warrant cards and pounded on a door. It was opened by someone in chef whites and the detective disappeared inside for not more than five minutes.

When he came out he had the look, the 'I know what everyone missed' look.

'Where will we get a cab from here John?' He said picking up his other crutch.

'You going to tell me or..?'

'Later John - time for you to get ready for work isn't it?'

The deflection was obvious but accurate, by the time they got back he'd barely have time for a sandwich before he had to go out again.


	5. Chapter 5

Lestrade's nerves were obvious to Sherlock in the way he stood as he waited by the window while John got ready. Slightly hunched but never quite still. Given he was going to meet a known criminal with the implicit understanding he was willing to be bribed it could actually work in his favour.

He had wanted to talk to him about the casework he had left but even someone with Sherlock's lack of social graces could see now was not the time. He knew from experience that being undercover was uniquely stressful - if exhilarating when it went to plan.

The omega appeared in the living room doorway fiddling with his cuffs, left hand twitching for the gun he had no doubt been told he was to leave at home. Dr Watson did scrub up well. The new shirt looked good with a fitted grey suit. Quite a change from the shapeless jumpers that he normally wore.

'Ready?' John said to Lestrade. Grabbing his keys and phone as he moved towards the door.

'Aren't you forgetting something ?' Sherlock looked at them sharply.

'I don't think so.' John said.

'He needs to scent you John. You are supposed to be engaged.' Sherlock was rather pleased with the momentary tense silence he created.

'He's right.' Greg said finally. 'I hadn't thought but - we should try and -you know- smell right.'

'Of course, OK...how do you want to...?' John blushed to the roots of his hair.

' If you sit down in the chair...' Greg began but was cut off by the detective.

' If it's to be convincing you both need to be wearing as few clothes as possible. Use my room .' He sat back, opening a book at random in a futile attempt to look indifferent. The next five minutes were excruciating as the scenting silently took place out of his sight. When they emerged , looking flustered, he crossed the room to sniff the omega. Trying not to flinch at the strength of Lestrade's scent on him.

'That's better, smelling like him is best in the circumstances.' Sherlock said regretfully, breathing against John's neck closer and longer than the bizarre situation called for. He heard John's breath catch and he had the urge to mark John as his with scent, tongue and teeth. Covering every trace of Lestrade with himself. As he pulled away the policeman was watching him carefully.

'I'll look after him.' Lestrade said, grinning weakly.

'He doesn't need you to. Do you Captain?' John looked at him for a few beats.

'Well, I hope we can look after each other.' He said finally.'Try not to do anything too disgusting or, you know, burny while I'm gone - and for god's sake eat something. You can't live on shortbread.'

With that they left and Sherlock occupied himself with a small experiment concerning the effects of acids on plastics.

############

The awkwardness of the cab journey was cut through by anxiety about what they were about to do and John replaying the way Sherlock had said captain in his head-but that could wait.

'I meant to ask, what are you comfortable with physical contact wise?' Greg said quietly.

'I dunno, I suppose whatever you would do in public with your ex will be fine.' John replied.

'OK, as long as you don't do the same in public as she did we should be ok.' Greg said with a wry smile.

_Bugger._

John had forgotten the former Mrs Lestrade had the habit of doing things she shouldn't with young alphas and not even bothering to be discreet.

'Sorry mate - I didn't think.'

Lestrade waved it off, they were arriving anyway. There was a queue outside, groups of young people under-dressed for the weather.

'Student night.' Greg explained as they got out the cab and moved towards a side door. John was surprised, in spite of their conversation, when Greg gently took his hand.

The door opened at a light tap and Lestrade nodded to a beta bouncer, bulky and watchful, who showed them through a short service corridor and into the club proper, which was, bizarrely, heavily scented with patchouli. Greg had been right, they were both far too old for this place. Though he noted that Greg attracted a few admiring glances from omegas half his age.

The mezzanine overlooked the dance floor but heavy velvet curtains and glass partitions meant it wasn't as loud. John recognised Graeme straight away from the papers. Just under six foot with close cropped receding hair and the glow of a man who can afford to spend half the winter in the Caribbean.

Melissa Graeme was a petite, immaculately groomed, brunette. As they were introduced she gushed about how nice it was to meet him and how lucky Greg was. John got the feeling he was on the business end of a well-rehearsed performance.

She squeezed John's arm as she introduced him to the others. The two alphas who worked with Graeme, Richard and George, were polite but reserved. John noticed that while the Graemes were drinking wine they stuck to lime and soda. There was also a young omega, Joe. He was introduced as Melissa's cousin but glances that passed suggested he was or had been involved with Richard, the younger of the two alphas.

They sat down. John, not quite sure what to do when he felt the eyes of the group on him, casually rested a hand on Lestrade's thigh, to his relief the alpha smiled reassuringly.

More wine was produced and poured, they chatted. Films, holidays, Graeme' s charity work. Nibbling delicately round the edges of the reason they were really here. The two lime and soda drinking alphas stayed observant, barely talking. Regularly wandering off to take phone calls.

Finally, in a slight lull in the conversation Graeme sat back looking pleased with himself.

'Joe, why don't you show John round a bit. Take him up to the flats, these two will likely be looking for a bigger place soon.' The alpha grinned at them. It was the sort of presumptuous, overly personal statement that would have pissed John off even if it wasn't coming from someone who was coldly exploiting John's kind for profit, possibly even just a few feet away. He steeled himself and smiled meekly.

'I'd like that.' He said, getting up to follow the younger omega. As he left Greg squeezed his hand affectionately - as a warning.

_No going solo._

Joe took him back down the way they'd came in then out the main entrance, they went back in through a temporary looking padlocked door fifty feet further down the street and up four floors in a lift. The building looked almost habitable when Joe flicked a switch that turned on a string of temporary lights. Unfinished wiring and plumbing was neatly taped up but otherwise it looked ready to move in. The finish looked expensive, marble worktops in the kitchen and solid wood flooring.

'You can't see it now but you get a little bit of a river view during the day and lots of light.'Joe had wandered to the window.

'So, you work for Jim ?' John said, making conversation.

''For the last few years, didn't know what I wanted to do when I left school. I'm going to uni in autumn, chemistry. Should have started last year but I deferred.'

John almost began saying his flatmate was a chemist but stopped himself.

'You took a year out?'

'Sort of, I erm- I have erratic heats.' The younger omega turned and walked away a few paces, fidgeting with a hanging coil of cable .

'Sorry I didn't mean to pry- you're getting treatment now though? It helps if you've got a sympathetic alpha.'

John felt genuinely sorry for him. He had treated a few omegas with the same problem and it made normal life impossible. Heats that came with no warning and followed no timetable. They could last as little as a few hours or as long as a week. In one case he had admitted someone to hospital for dehydration after a five day heat, despite his distraught alpha's best efforts to care for him.

'Yeah I'm on the injections. My alpha works with me so we're ok that way. Not that we're bonded or anything.' Panic flicked across Joe's eyes when he realised he'd said too much.

' Don't worry,I'd worked it out anyway. The way you look at each other.' John smiled and Joe fought back his own grin.

'I assume you're keeping it quiet?'

'Missy knows but she pretends not to. Jim-he likes to keep work and family separate. We're careful, you know, scents wise. We better get back.' Joe said finally. He led John back inside but took him the opposite direction round the main dance floor and past the bar.

'Cellar's down there.' He said pausing a moment as he fiddled again with his phone. Just as John was wondering why he was bothering to tell him this an external door opened further down the corridor. Joe gently pulled John back out of sight. Two more bouncers appeared arms firmly round the shoulders of two omegas, one female one male. They led them in and through another door that seemed to go into the body of the building. They weren't just guiding them John realised, they were holding them up. He briefly caught a glimpse of the male's eyes, gone, just like Greg had said. The patchouli now made sense, without it the brothel would be obvious to anyone in the street, let alone the club.

Joe glanced at John once then turned and disappeared into the thronged dance floor. John following with difficulty.

When they made their way back to the main stairs Greg was waiting for him at the bottom, chatting with Richard.

'The licensing sergeant turned up, he's talking to Jim now. Reports of selling alcohol to minors apparently . Think we should make ourselves scarce.' Greg said,sliding his hand around John's waist.

'Thanks Richard, I'll phone tomorrow.' Greg shook the other alpha's hand. Smiling at Joe as they moved away. John gave the other omega as reassuring a look as he could muster.

When they got into a cab outside John was rattled. He needed to tell Greg what he'd seen but he was suddenly paranoid. He felt the cab driver was looking at them far more often than necessary. Finally he curled himself round the alpha, whispering the story in his ear. After that performance, for the sake of appearances, he gave him a lingering goodnight kiss as he left the cab.

He opened the door as quietly as possible. Sherlock must be having what counted as an early night for him given it was just past one. The flat smelled faintly, but not unusually, of melted plastic.

He sent Greg a text given what had just passed.

_Sorry, thought you'd want to know and not sure about cabbie .JW_

The reply was immediate.

_don't worry about it- most action I've had in months;-) -thanks again. GL_

He had planned to go straight to bed but now realised that he would stink of Lestrade and that aside , the whole thing had made him feel decidedly grubby. He got fresh pyjamas from his own room and went for a shower. Lathering and rinsing repeatedly under water as hot as he could stand.

Not feeling quite like sleeping yet he moved to the living room and poured himself a modest measure of Sherlock's neglected Highland Park. He didn't bother to turn the lights on as he went and stood at the window.

'I would take one of those.' Sherlock's voice startled him from his thoughts. The alpha came in and sat down in his chair, a shaft of light from the street cutting across him.

'How did it go?'

'Interesting. It looks like his omega's cousin might be useful. I saw something.' John crossed the room to pour another measure of the spirit and brought Sherlock the glass. He sank to the floor at his side, head next to the alpha' s knees.

He told himself it was because it was the only light spot in the room but since their impromptu embrace John had taken every excuse to get close. He couldn't help it, it was hard wired. For his part, Sherlock hadn't objected or pulled away but then, that was hard wired too.

'That was lucky.'

'No, I was meant to. He showed me them bringing in omegas, doped to the eyeballs by the look of them. Walked me past a door at just the right time.' John tossed back the rest of his drink with less reverence than good malt deserved.

'It upset you.' Sherlock said, a hand coming to touch his shoulder. John sort of wanted to shrug the placating gesture off but didn't.

'Bloody right it did.' He arched into the touch instead and Sherlock moved his hand to John's hair. He realised he didn't really want to talk about it.

'What did you do while I was out? Other than try to burn the place down?'

'Mycroft's home from his travels, he visited.'

'Did he bother to bring fruit, chocolate? You know, like you usually would to a recuperating relative?'

'Hardly, he wanted me to do some boring job for him.' The alpha continued to absently stroke his hair, the pressure pleasant against his scalp.

' What was so boring about it?' John shifted to get comfortable, the mix of pheromones and alcohol was making him pleasantly drowsy and he was fighting the urge to nuzzle Sherlock's thigh.

' Something about stolen documents at the Berlin embassy. It's not a detective he needs it's human resources.' John smiled at Sherlock's obvious distaste.

'I'm surprised he even bothered trying with something like that.'

'Well, he was off his game a little I think. Trying to break in a new minion.'

'What happened to Anthea?'

'Nothing that I know of, I suppose he just likes the idea of a spare. Apparently I should have known him, son of one of my parents friends.'

John stiffened. 'An omega?'

'Yes, Mycroft's very progressive in that way at least. No interest in gender as long as they're happy to do as their told for queen and country.'

John seethed. Sherlock might not rate Greg as a detective but he'd worked the Holmeses out well enough. They didn't waste any time.

Jealous alphas were expected, were even considered a little romantic. Omegas though, on the right day, could give them a run for their money. As a naive young medical student in Bart 's A&E he'd treated a few who'd fought tooth and nail over alphas, literally. He'd never thought he'd feel like becoming one of them-until now.

'John is something wrong?' Sherlock shifted in his seat. John realised his arm had wrapped around Sherlock's leg and his fingers were digging into the flesh.

'Fine just a bit...' As he looked around the expression on the alpha' s face had changed, eyes wide, almost anxious. He realised (too late) that he was likely firing off all sorts of chemical signals that would make any sort of verbal reassurance he gave pointless. Chemical signals that Sherlock was replying to-with bells on. His scent, which John was getting used to as a constant, pleasant background buzz had gained an extra dimension.

'You're jealous.' The alpha almost whispered.

'Of course I'm jealous.' John replied,confident, since his body had already given him away. 'You're barely a week off suppressant and your brother's trying to pair you off.'

'I already told you, I'm not interested.'

The omega turned to face him properly, a hand resting on each knee.

'John.' The alphas tone was warning.

'Shh, don't say anything-it's all fine.'

John, holding his gaze, climbed into the alphas lap. Straddling him, but careful about where he rested his weight for fear he damaged the healing ankle. He ran surgeon's hands, precise and gentle, briefly over his face just because, for the first time, he could.

He pressed his mouth to Sherlock's and for a few seconds it felt wrong. The alpha stiff and barely responding. He almost gave up, thinking he'd got the wrong idea somehow. Then though, Sherlock shifted forward, taking the balance of John's weight on to his hands. His tongue pressed into the omega's mouth tentative at first but with exquisite sensitivity once he found his rhythm. The position was uncomfortable but the sensation of being wrapped around warm alpha for its own sake, not just as precursor to relieving the agony of his heat, was too good for John to want to change it. Sherlock finally pulled away with a sigh.

'Can we move..? Sherlock began, as he held John carefully. Fingers spread across his back as if he had been handed something of great value. 'Only if you want to - it's just because...' Sherlock stopped and glanced down at his injury.

John laughed a little. 'Of course we can. You're adorable when you're inarticulate.' He pecked the alpha on the lips again before carefully getting up. He had the urge to lead Sherlock by the hand to the bedroom in some grand romantic gesture but that obviously wasn't going to work. Instead he walked ahead, switching on the lamp and turning down the bed.

They lay down side by side, the alpha, quickly taking the lead again, alternated between greedy plundering kisses and a sustained but somehow delicate assault on his neck. Normally an alpha paying this much attention to his neck would make him nervous, but with Sherlock it felt right. If they did nothing else, John thought, he was fairly sure he could get off eventually just from what the detective was doing to the sensitive spot beneath his ear.

In his hazy state, drunk on pheromones, he didn't realise Sherlock had stopped and was looking at him pensively. His fingers ghosting over John's hip maddeningly close to where he wanted to feel them most.

'You know I've never been with anyone properly.'

'I thought - Victor? When you said you'd never spent a heat together. I didn't realise..' He stopped the motion on John's hip and visibly withdrew.

'We were intimate of course but I was never inside him like that.'

The omega moved closer to him on the bed. Picking up his hand and pressing it back to his hip. Hooking a leg over the Alpha's thigh for good measure.

'Look at me.' John shuffled around using his leg as leverage to force the embarrassed alpha to meet his eye.

'There's no hurry. Just lie here with me and we'll see how it goes. For a start we've got too many clothes on.' John had his own pyjamas off in seconds and couldn't help but smile at the way the alpha looked at him, hungrily but still slightly anxious as he straddled his still clothed hips.

'Will I do the honours?' John slid his hands under Sherlock's t-shirt thumbs brushing the waistband of his pyjamas. The alpha nodded, sitting up and shifting around to allow John to peel off the clothes which were quickly tossed to the floor.

John lay beside him and gently ran a hand from chest to navel. The alpha's hips twitching just a little into the movement. John already knew that Sherlock was nothing like the broad heavily muscled alphas he usually went for. His lean, pale elegance was different, exotically different almost. Sherlock was doing his own appraisal, almost covertly, out of the corner of his eye.

'You can look you know.' John lay back, hands above his head so he was covering nothing for a few seconds and Sherlock's gaze was every bit as focussed, as probing as as he'd thought it would be. He let him have a good long look before rolling over, pressing his arousal into the alpha's hip and running his fingers lightly around his hard cock. It was warm and smooth and heavy in his hand. He felt himself get harder as his fingers traced the skin that would swell into a knot and he could well imagine the white explosion of pleasure as the alpha stretched him - plenty of time for that later.

Though he had barely began to stroke him, an exploration really, Sherlock's breath was catching. Not too surprising if he hadn't came with someone else in years. John wasn't much better and he was making tiny unconscious thrusting movements with his own hips, trying to get friction. He moved to rest between Sherlock's thighs, lining up up their erections and taking them loosely in hand.

He began to mouth at Sherlock's throat as they rutted together. It turned out the alpha had a sensitive neck too and Sherlock gasped and held the omegas hips with a pleasantly bruising pressure as John worked across the pale skin. John knew he'd been marked and he didn't care, but he felt the need to return the favour. Just in case Mycroft brought any more pretty, posh things round. _John Watson's do not touch._

He soon felt muscles twitch and tense below him and he pressed their mouths together again, smothering Sherlock's cry, as the alpha came apart, covering both their stomachs. The slick warmth against John's cock was enough to pull him over the edge too. He bonelessly collapsed on top of Sherlock. Violinists fingers brushing up an down his back as they both recovered.

'Well, that happened.' John said finally, propping himself up on his elbows on Sherlock's chest.

'It did.' The alpha brought his hands up to stroke John's shoulders and then pulled him into a hug. It was warm and safe and felt absolutely right. Apart from the stickiness.

'Cleanup time I think.' John reluctantly rolled off and wiped off the worst with one of the T-shirts before going to the bathroom and coming back with flannels wrung out in hot water. He wiped them both, thinking that strangely, cleaning Sherlock was almost more intimate than what had just passed and realising that he'd never felt the inclination with any other alpha.

Twenty minutes later, both were resettled in bed with tea.

'So, do you have to do anything today?' John was looking forward to a day off of doing very little. Except possibly spending more time naked with Sherlock.

'I have to have blood taken in the afternoon and I should really see Lestrade at some point.'

'Well, I think after that it's fair to suggest that your hormones are going back to normal, don't you?' John said smirking. 'Anyway, you never did tell me. What got you so excited in that alley the other day?'

'That's what I need to talk to Lestrade about. His cold case. The victim is his grandfather.' Sherlock looked suddenly serious.

'Oh so...the murderer could be his grandmother.'

'Exactly, except it's not. Which should be a relief but..it may be his father.'


	6. Chapter 6

The following day started well enough.

He woke up to bright sunshine, a steaming mug of tea and, most importantly, confident fingers tracing the line of his spine. Omega scent still strong on his sheets.

They had sat in bed as he explained his theory about Lestrade's father. About how what was now a door in the alley they had visited had once been a small window. Dismissed as being irrelevant because an adult couldn't get through it. A fourteen year old boy though, one that circumstances had made small and wiry on one hand and angry and scared on the other could do so easily. It was little more than an air vent really for the kitchen behind. The murder weapon likely inconspicuously replaced in the knife rack minutes after the act.

The police had become obsessed with the statements of a couple of supposedly reliable witnesses, this narrow view (Sherlock explained) had been their downfall. A cabbie, waiting for customers to come out of a restaurant, was watching the street near the entrance to the alley closely and saw 'no one suspicious'. Lestrade's grandmother's employer, the pub landlady, had lost sight of her around the time of the murder. His mother claimed to be bringing up stock from the cellar but the assumption was that she sneaked out, found her inebriated alpha and attacked him without being seen. It made no sense. Though it was possible she would know he was likely to use that alley to relieve himself at some point in the night it would be unlikely to tie up with the time she was able to sneak away from work. Far more likely he was attacked by someone watching and waiting.

John, he noticed as he told the story, was as raptly engaged as ever, Lestrade was their friend after all, but there was something else. Relief. He deduced relief from the omega. He realised John had been worried that last night would change things. That he would somehow become less, merely a receptacle in Sherlock's eyes. The idea was ridiculous.

'So you think he just snapped?' John asked.

'Maybe, but it may have been more calculating that that. I think his mother was already in love with another alpha, George Lestrade, whose name they would all take a couple of years later.'

'Mrs Lestrade describes herself as having been 'off colour' for a few days between Christmas and new year in her statement, though the medical examination on file confirms she appeared physically uninjured and generally well. I rather think at the time, that 'off colour' would have been code for a heat. We already know that the victim was rarely at home by this point and when he was he was drunk, violent.'

' You think she shared her heat with the other alpha, if she'd had to go through it alone she'd have been in worse shape physically.'John said thoughtfully.

Sherlock nodded. ' George Lestrade was already a trusted presence in their lives. The boy realised they could have a better life but at the time unbonding was unheard of.'

'Christ.' John said quietly. 'You think Greg has any idea?'

'I think he worked it out himself years ago. We'll never know for sure now of course, his father died five years ago. I think he just wanted someone unconnected to cast an eye over it, confirm it.'

'Well he came to the right person.' John reached across and took his hand. Affection during casework. This was new, he could come to like it (if not admit such a thing).

The omega insisted on making breakfast while Sherlock went for a quick bath. The detective shyly wrapping a dressing gown around himself as he got up-much to John's amusement.

When he opened the bathroom door afterwards he reacted straight away to the tang in the air. As he shouted John's name his were feet already carrying him to the kitchen, towards the scent of distressed omega. He was relieved to see John leaning against the worktop. Phone in hand.

He moved to press the older man against his chest, oblivious to the way he was dripping on the floor. He was still getting used to how that felt, being dragged along at the heels of a chemical reaction. His conscious brain unable to keep up with how fast the hormones were bouncing off each other. He knew he was overreacting, that John was in no physical danger, just upset, but he luxuriated in the stirring of his protective side.

'It's Harry.' John said into his damp skin.'She's been made redundant, that was her neighbour, they were worried – you know, with her history.'

Sherlock released him slightly.

'I'm sorry, I'm going to have to go - today.'

Sherlock instinctively tightened his grip for a few seconds but nodded against the sandy hair, brushing a damp lock off his forehead.

'We'll have breakfast first though. Can't get a direct train for an hour and a half anyway.'

John gently released himself and returned to the breakfast, making tea and stirring porridge while Sherlock got dressed.

They sat down at the table and John told him about Harry. He'd known before of course, John's drunk sibling who gifted him his phone had been one of the alpha's first deductions about his flatmate. Beyond that though John didn't mention her much.

She'd been doing better apparently, properly sober for the first time since Clara left her. So John would have to do what he always did, drop his own life to go and look after her.

'Look, Sherlock- we need to talk about what happened last night.' John said, after a brief pause in the conversation.

' I know you probably expected more.' Sherlock said, stirring the remains of his porridge.

'Not at all. I mean, I'd like to do _more_ with you-if you'd have me but like I said-no rush.' John gave him a filthy grin. Sherlock decided he wanted to see that again, soon.

'I think I'd very much like that.' He replied quietly, heat creeping over his face.

'That's that sorted then.' John said getting up from the table and squeezing Sherlock's shoulder. He moved away, as if to go to his room but then stopped and slowly turned.

'So, I've been monitoring my levels at work.'

Sherlock had a peculiar blank moment. _Ah levels_.

'Yeah, so-I'm all over the place. What with me having been on suppressants for so long before I stopped.'

'You stayed off suppressants for me?' Sherlock looked at him sharply, he hadn't known his flatmate had done something so personal to help his healing.

'Yeah, you needed a full omega to get your own hormones back straight. Didn't we talk about this?'

'No, I'd never have let you do that.' The detective protested.

'Well, it wouldn't have been up you – and its done now.' John said with a wave of his hand.

' I've probably got about four weeks left. I was thinking you could help me out with the next one. I know it seems funny to talk about it with Harry and everything but I need to be practical. I can't go back on suppressants now until I'm through another cycle.'

Sherlock was touched. He believed that was the expression. Touched and suddenly protective all over again as he realised John-Captain Watson - had found that incredibly hard to say.

'Of course, I'd be honoured.' He said formally, then immediately laughed along with John at how ridiculous he sounded.

' I mean you know my limitations already..' Sherlock began.

'We've plenty of time, I think once you get started you won't have many limitations.' John gave him another filthy grin, lovely.

'I really do have to go and get ready though.' The omega quickly moved to peck him on the cheek and then went off to his room.

As John left twenty minutes later they parted with a kiss that started off in the flat,casual and closed- mouthed. Ending on the landing with Sherlock pulling back seconds away from dragging John back inside. Crutches be buggered.

##################

John sat on the train watching the suburbs fly past. His thoughts drifting between the rather wonderful of last night (soppy git) and the as yet unknown of his sister. He had completely forgotten about Lestrade until his phone buzzed.

'Hello fiance.' He said brightly as he answered.

'Hello, nice work last night. Just to let you know it's going the direction we hoped for. Richard called me this morning and he offered me something.'

'Excellent, easier than you thought then.'

'Yeah well he didn't put it straight forward of course. The idea is I'll be a consultant on security, full time once I retire but internal affairs are fairly certain it amounts to the same thing.'

'What did you make of the cousin, telling us what he did, is he looking to take out Graeme or feeling guilty about what they're into?'

'Well I'm on a train so..' John looked about the carriage but it was quiet anyway and he could see no one paying him any attention. '...but I'd say he's guilty- and worried about his alpha.'

'There may be more use for him yet.' Greg said thoughtfully.

'I was wanting to speak to you anyway, I'm going to be out of London for a few days – my sister that I told you about. Can you keep an eye on Sherlock? I mean he's got Mrs H and his brother will keep a close watch but taking some food over one night would be a big help. Try to keep him eating something.' John suddenly wondered, given their performance last night (in two rooms), exactly how close a watch Mycroft was keeping on his brother. Probably best not to think about it.

'Will do. He's been looking at some old stuff for me anyway.' Greg said. John, with a pang of sympathy for his friend, remembered this morning and the old case. Certainly put Harry into perspective.

'I know you've got family stuff but will you be up for being demure again if needed?'

'Absolutely, I'll text you in a day or so.'

'Thanks – good luck with Harry. Bye.'

'Thanks – Bye.'

John had barely put away his phone and lifted the cooling coffee he'd bought at the station before the thing buzzed again. Unknown number.

'John, I understand you're going on a trip.' Mycroft said, before some irritated background muttering which John took to be instructions to the long suffering Anthea.

'I am, but I'm not quite sure how you would come to understand that.' John said, sipping his coffee and settling in for the usual verbal sparring match.

Mycroft ignored the implied question. 'Should I send someone round?'

John thought of the omega Sherlock had mentioned last night. 'No.' He said a little too brusquely. 'I mean Mrs Hudson is going to be around and Greg Lestrade will look in. If you try and smother him it'll only make him more likely to do something stupid.'

'That sounds reasonable. I assume his hormones are coming along well enough.'

'Mycroft, do you have cameras in the flat?' John said suddenly.

'In the flat – no. Aside from the unforgivable breach of privacy. My brother would have found them in the first day. There is however a security camera on the landing. A sensible precaution in an old building.'

There was a pause on the line as John remembered the goodbye kiss that morning that had somehow ended up with John pressed against the wall of the landing with Sherlock's thigh wedged between his. John almost felt sorry for Mycroft (sneaky, nosy bugger that he was) because no big brother should have to watch a sibling in that sort of situation. Still, served him right for installing the bloody camera.

' I'll keep a weather eye out. You must look after your sister. Let me know if you're not back by the end of the week. Goodbye John.'

#################

As Sherlock made his way back up from dinner at Mrs Hudson's he stuck his tongue out at the security camera concealed in the light fitting on the landing, with any luck it had been disabled anyway after Mycroft got an eyeful this morning. If his brother thought that side of things was functioning properly he was more likely to leave him alone.

He immediately changed for bed where John had left a jumper. Deliberately he assumed, since the military had long since drilled any messiness out of the doctor. He lay down and hugged the ugly thing to his chest. It didn't have the depth of scent of the scarf he'd worn at the start of his last heat but it was pleasant, peaceful, to lie and inhale it. He could feel himself drifting off just as his mobile buzzed.

_Are you behaving? JW_

_Little chance to do anything else these days. How is Harry? SH_

_Actually still sober but really down. I'm going to stay for a few days anyway. Have you eaten?JW_

_Mrs Hudson insisted – as per your instructions. SH_

_Sleep well then. Speak to you tomorrow.JW_

_Night John. SH_

He was in the process of tucking himself and the jumper into bed when his phone buzzed again.

_I've got a body. Any chance you could come have a look tonight? GL_

He sighed and buried his face in wool for a few seconds, distraction would be good though.

_Certainly - send a car. SH_

He hauled himself back out of bed and got dressed.

The car Lestrade sent was driven by a female sergeant who chattered at an incredible speed for the whole trip. In the end he only just restrained himself from telling her that, yes, her alpha was stealing money from her.

It was a classic body dump location. Waste ground at the side of a canal. Not in the canal though - so this one was meant to be found.

Lestrade he realised. as Anderson reluctantly brought him through the cordon, was genuinely shaken. Not his crime scene-he had actually found the body. He stood back a distance from the officers in charge.

'Thanks for coming.' He said, as he saw Sherlock. 'Bit of a strange one, I was walking home and I heard this rattling coming from among those trees' he pointed to where a row of beeches screened the street from the unsightly area behind. 'I thought it was one of the feral cats caught in something so I comes through for a look and there he is.'

There was a full moon and the scene was cast in a bluish hue. The glaring lights forensics worked with not yet set up.

Lestrade stood behind him as he looked at the young naked man, the thick smell of omega fear clung stale to the cold body.

'You know all the times I've been to scenes like this, had it drummed into me about. contamination and I only just stopped myself covering him with my coat.' Lestrade said.

'Caring, never an advantage.' Sherlock replied absently. He was unable to crouch the way he normally would at a scene. Instead he leaned forward on his crutches swaying from side to side. It was undignified but effective enough.

'I'd Jack it in if I didn't care anymore.' Lestrade said, coming to stand beside him.

'With the nudity and the location you're starting to think sex worker- your wrong.' Sherlock carefully stepped backwards.

'That's what you're supposed to think. Look at his hair, high quality shampoo and product. Yet his hands show signs of repetitive manual work. His feet are coarse, you mostly see that on people who've spent a lot of time in flip flops.' Sherlock said, moving to get a better view of the omega's torso.

'He's tanned, but not in any even way, forearms, neck have had a lot more sun than the rest of him. I'd say he's a craftsman or an artist highly paid. Usually lives somewhere warm overseas. That should help you get an ID, no one's missing him, that's why he was chosen.'

'I assume the pathologist will be able to tell you more about his specific line of work from the fingernails.' Sherlock said, turning away.

'Thanks, appreciate you coming out at this time. Bring you dinner tomorrow?' Lestrade asked as they walked back to the road.

'John left instructions did he?' Sherlock replied,arching a brow.

'Fine. Say eight, that should give us a chance to get the preliminary results from the lab.' The detective climbed back into the waiting car.

###############

John sat across from his sister at her kitchen table pushing pasta round his plate. He hadn't been hungry but when Harry got like this it was his instinct to enforce a routine. Probably the soldier in him. Harry on on the other hand ate quite a bit, Clara always had been the cook.

'So, we've only spoke about my miserable life, what about you?' Harry said, pushing back from the table and sipping from her water.

'Harry, we're talking about you because- well you know why.'

'Changing the subject.' She said, grinning and ,though it was a sign she was about to tease him, he was glad to see it.

'I'm good at the moment. Job, flat, the usual stuff all, you know, fine.'

'Alpha?'

'No one special, just the usual.' His hand went, to a spot above his collarbone where Sherlock had left him with a plum coloured bruise. The movement was unconscious but Harry spotted it, pulling his shirt aside.

'No one special, hmm. Anyone ' not special' trying that would have got a broken jaw for their trouble.' He defensively pulled his shirt back.

'You don't want to talk about it, that's fine.' She held her hands up.

'I'm just surprised your weird flatmate hasn't scared them off yet. Night John.' She said, yawning half the sentence as she got up.

He'd forgotten, Harry didn't know about Sherlock being an alpha. Probably best it stayed that way for now.

He then found himself at a bit of a loose end. Neither of the books he'd brought appealed at the moment and there was nothing on telly. He opted to get out his laptop, a bit of a more qthorough read of the press articles on Graeme might be useful if he was needed again. Staring at the blank search engine box though he typed in a different name, Victor Trevor.


	7. Chapter 7

He was sure it was coming off suppressant that had started to slowly but surely increase his appetite. It was tedious. So it was timely when Lestrade turned up at the door the with both the lab results and Indian food.

He looked them over while Lestrade scooped chicken jalfrezi and rice into bowls. Fragments of oak wood under the dead omegas fingernails, a woodcarver, craftsman as he'd said. No ID yet, Lestrade's team were checking immigration records for a match. The aroma of curry prevented further useful thoughts.

They ate, Lestrade obviously as hungry as him, and they were soon left with empty foil containers. Sherlock binned the rubbish and dumped the plates in the sink. Taking a deep breath before he turned to face Lestrade. He would have preferred John here for this conversation, he'd been putting it off, but he would have to make do.

'I've looked at that file, the old one. It's personal isn't it.'Sherlock started, not a question. He sat back down, hands clasped, trying not to meet Greg's eye.

'Go on, tell me what you think.' Lestrade mimicked his posture.

'Your father. He was just young he ...' Sherlock made to go on but Lestrade held a hand up.

'As you probably worked out that's what I think too.'

'I'm sorry.' Sherlock said, wondering if the catch all response to something sad was appropriate, John would have known what to say. 'How long have you known?'

'Since I joined the Met. Believe it or not they were using the case in training. Anonymised of course but I knew enough to work it out who it was. I always felt there was part of the story my dad didn't tell me so I started looking into it. I think maybe-he meant to frighten him but it went too far. You looking at it, that's the closest I'll get to certain.

Sherlock nodded. 'Afterwards, your grandmother, was she happy?'

'Yeah, I only knew George years later of course but he was lovely. Funny thing was after they bonded she was ready to go back to being a normal stay at home omega. She'd only worked because her first alpha drank the money, even with that as her reason she wasn't approved of by some. George though encouraged her to keep a bit of independence, saw she was happy that way. She ended up a landlady in the end, well- you've seen the picture.' Sherlock nodded, he remembered the framed print on Lestrade's desk. A formidable looking woman, behind her bar, her children sitting in front of her.

'George was always the alpha I wanted to be.' Lestrade finished. A silence settled, Greg was clearly finished talking about this. A change of subject seemed to be called for.

'I suppose I've thought a lot about the sort of alpha I am lately.' Sherlock said out if nowhere, it hardly lightened the mood.

The older alpha regarded him closely. ' Look, I know you got started on that stuff, the suppressant and the coke, because you couldn't cope. Now though you can manage the rest of your head. You've got that mind palace up there.' Lestrade tapped his temple. 'You must have a room you can just put it in, alpha stuff, when it's not needed.'

' It's not quite that simple.'

'It is you know, that's pretty much how I deal with it. I've got more of a mind shed though.' The older alpha looked at him with a weak smile. Sherlock nodded slowly and started to look at the results again.

##########

It was nearly a week before Lestrade found the identity of the omega after a public appeal.

Sherlock was tearing his hair out with the tedium latterly. Lestrade was there most days, often at the same time as Mrs Hudson and his brother. He appreciated the distraction, even if he mostly wished they would bugger off. John texted regularly, they were friendly, even affectionate by text but nothing more. Their attempts at voice calls were less successful, Sherlock's fault, he couldn't quite disguise his irritation at being Johnless. Even if he knew it was selfish.

The omega, Antonio Lopez, was a Spanish national, here to work on a special commission for a few months. A loner, no alpha, no family, no one to notice, according to his UK agent who had called the police helpline and then made the formal ID. He normally worked on driftwood, gathered near the eco house he'd built on a Mediterranean beach but occasionally took commissions abroad because they paid well.

Lestrade took Sherlock out to look over the omegas rented studio before forensics got to it. The space was in a converted warehouse, part of a complex with cafe, shops and offices.

Sherlock had the immediate sense there was little to find as soon as they got inside. Two pieces of worked oak were mounted on stands, paper plans pinned to the wall behind annotated in several colours. The tools were neat, everything put away apart from a couple of chisels, a pen and blank notepad. A half full paper cup of coffee (from the attached shop), sat to one side, mould beginning to bloom on its surface.

'There's nothing much to find, he left abruptly though.' Sherlock said, running his eyes over the workbench.

'No sign of a struggle.' Lestrade replied doubtfully.

'Look at the bin. Lopez swept up every day before he left, tidied, he wouldn't have left it like this.' Sherlock gestured at the curls of wood on the floor. 'He stepped out and never came back.'

They left via the main foyer, speaking to the barista in the cafe the abandoned cup had came from. Lopez had been a regular for weeks, though he had given the impression he didn't speak much English.

They bought coffee and returned to Lestrade's car, Sherlock looking over the post mortem report again, reading the little details out loud. A smoker, an infected cut on his shin, most likely work related.

'We'll talk to some more people from the building, see if they saw anything unusual, they must have seen him coming out to smoke at least.' Lestrade said, gesturing at an ugly plastic smoking shelter to one side of the entrance.

'Of course.' Sherlock shifted forward suddenly.'He was a loner, poor English, he wouldn't have wanted to make small talk. He didn't go to the shelter.' Sherlock was back out of the car impressively quickly for someone on crutches. 'Come on, I saw a fire exit.'

They walked back through the building to a fire exit just outside the studio. Sherlock inspected it closely, it had been jammed slightly open.

'We used to do this at my old station. Lestrade said, delicately moving the mechanism.

' Looks closed but isn't in contact to activate the alarm.' The door swung open on to a narrow alley. The original cobbles slimy green. Sherlock moved gingerly around piles of cardboard.

'Look here.' Sherlock tapped a varnish tin which contained a pile of cigarette ends. An upturned crate sat alongside. 'The top few are dry. It hasn't rained to any degree since the day before we found the body. He was out here the day he died.'

'What's this?' Sherlock said, prodding a crutch into the building on the opposite side.

Greg looked around to get his bearings. 'Furniture shop I think.'

Sherlock inspected the cardboard boxes more closely.'These are from the fruit shop across the road.'

'Maybe they just store recycling here.' Lestrade was losing patience with him, wondering where he was going with this.

'No, the council collect from across there, no point. Then there's this.' Sherlock gestured at a doorway partially covered by the stack of boxes.'Look at the lock, New, the rest of it's shabby. Deliberately so.'

Before Lestrade could argue. Sherlock was bent to the lock with his set of lock picks. The inspector looked round nervously but Sherlock knew he was unlikely to be stopped when they were this close to something interesting. The mechanism was simple and it opened into a dingy corridor. The floor suggested it was little used but had seen some recent traffic.

He moved quietly inside closely followed by Lestrade. It confused him at first, the rich woody smell, so out of place. Then he realised what it was masking. His body was half a step ahead of his brain and arousal was already curling in his lower belly when his mind registered the cloying musk of omega heat. He was suddenly moving unconsciously towards it. He tried to shake off Lestrade when he grabbed his arm but the inspector was stronger and more in control, though not unaffected. His pupils were blown when Sherlock turned to him.

Lestrade quickly led him back out of the alley and bundled him into the car. His heart pounding in his chest, he was uncomfortably ,humiliatingly, hard inside his clothes. Lestrade got in and silently drove off. Sherlock squeezed his eyes shut and it was a few minutes before it occurred to him they were heading the wrong way.

'Where are we going?' He said, surprised at how hoarse he sounded.

'My place, it's closer.' Lestrade replied, sounding no better.

Sherlock knew this was a lie. Baker Street was a good five minutes closer, even taking into account the time of day and a set of temporary lights. Then he realised why Lestrade had said it. John. He wasn't expected back for days but Lestrade didn't want to risk Sherlock in this state with an omega. He couldn't blame him, Sherlock Holmes roused into rut was an unknown quantity, even to himself.

At Lestrade's flat the older alpha poured scotch into tumblers. 'It'll help to take the edge off.' He said, pressing the glass into Sherlock's hand.

'There was something synthetic about it. The smell.' He'd been contemplating this in the car, comparing the scent to John. Obviously different omegas had different scents but this was more than that. Like the difference between a freshly sliced lemon and that bright yellow liquid Mrs Hudson used to clean the bathroom.

'I know, I've seen this before-a brothel' Lestrade replied.

'Your work with John?' Lestrade nodded, they sat in silence for a few minutes.

'Its quite simple really.' Sherlock leaned back in his chair, glass drained.

'Not to me.' Lestrade replied, pulling his coat off.

'He was out smoking as usual. Someone from the brothel appears, some minor cog, security most likely. By this time the antibiotics have started to interfere with his heat suppressant, he probably didn't have enough English to interpret the label. He's hours from a heat and smells like it.' Sherlock glances up to check Lestrade is following, which he raptly is.

' The security assumes he's one of theirs and tries to take him inside. They argue, the language barrier makes it worse. He probably falls in the panic , the security's unlikely to damage merchandise deliberately but damage is done and he's dead, an unlucky stranger. There's a body so someone senior is called. Someone who sees an opportunity to test the loyalty of their newest employee.' Sherlock looked to Lestrade.

'I was meant to find him, literally me.' Lestrade looked queasy.

'Wouldn't have been too difficult, simple matter of knowing your habits, making a noise at the right time. Graeme may even have intended that you know you're being tested. Of course everything I've just said relies on forensics and toxicology not yet completed. When will you see him next?'

' End of the week, with John.'

'We have some time then-to plan. I should go' Sherlock, case deduced, was starting to feel awkward and he stood up, making for the door, head down.

'Sherlock, it wasn't your fault. The chemicals they use magnify everything, they make you ...'

'Dangerous?' Sherlock supplied, caustically.

'I was going to say primitive. They just bypass your brain.'

' I cannot have my brain bypassed. Text me when you have more.' Sherlock swept out of the flat.

His arousal had dissipated enough to let him pick up antiseptic swabs on the way home, he already had syringes. Normally he would just borrow from John's well supplied first aid kit but that hardly seemed appropriate in the circumstances. He was relieved when he got into the flat and discovered his last few vials of suppressant in the fridge still had two weeks of shelf life left.

The alternative involved an all nighter alone in Bart's lab to produce a new batch. There was always the chance he'd weaken, go and procure some of the other substance that would help. He still maintained, for professional purposes, a mental map of the places where cocaine could be purchased in London. There were three within a ten minute walk of Bart s, five if you were less fussy about quality. He counted the vials, Three days worth, enough to get a little clarity.

He sat in his chair with the suppressant and syringe balanced on his knee and suddenly thought about how John had felt in his lap that night. Vulnerable and in control all at once. He tried to brush the image aside. John could do better than a virgin alpha who got addled by pheromones like an adolescent. He began to prepare the syringe, hands shaking, when his phone buzzed.

_Have you checked the mail? JW_

Sherlock sighed, he hadn't since John left and a pile of mail was likely to give Mrs Hudson an excuse to barge in. He made his way downstairs. Bills, lab equipment catalogues and junk were all discarded and he was about to do the same with a padded envelope (what John called crazies regularly sent them weird stuff in the post) until he recognised John's handwriting, he tore it open. There was a post it note and a bubble wrapped package.

_Saw this and thought of you (I know it's cheesy but I did). John_

Sherlock carefully pulled the wrapping away. It was a silver bookmark with an enamelled bee dangling from a chain. He smiled at the memory of the afternoon he and John had spent wandering through a Kent orchard. It was not long after they started to flatshare and well before John had known about his alpha status. The case was a missing person, easily solved, but he remembered John not only listening to him talking about the dynamics of the hives they came across among the trees but actually asking intelligent questions. Sherlock remembered thinking, for the first time, there was a chance this might actually last.

He turned the gift in his fingers, pulling his phone from his pocket. He couldn't do it, the suppressant, there was so much fragile hope in the gift, hope he tentatively shared if he was being honest.

_Thank you it's lovely. :-) SH_

He deleted that, soppy was all very well but he only tolerated smileys from John even his mother didn't get away with it.

_Thank you, I love it. When are you coming home? SH_

_Few days yet. GL needs me at the end of the week. That OK? JW_

Sherlock realised at that moment that after what he had seen it was _not_ OK. He wouldn't send any omega, less still one he cared about as much as John into that situation and yet...

There was that moment after a chase, or a stand off, that moment when they knew they'd gotten away with it - again. The look on John's face then, so bright and alive. Sherlock could never take that from him. He tapped the phone against his fingers. Perhaps there was a middle ground. He dialled.

'Anthea? I need a favour- from both of you- he once told me he could procure an invite to anything. This shouldn't be too much of a challenge. I will of course need an appropriate plus one.'

##########

John had started to feel better about Harry, eventually, he'd stayed a week longer than planned. She'd finally lost that stillness that made her seem like an accident waiting to happen.

She'd been emailing contacts and seemed confident of getting at least a bit of freelance work before long. They'd spent the rest of their time together leisurely, watching old films and going for long walks. Clara even came to visit, John making himself scarce for a few hours. Love, he knew, had never been the issue.

Truth be told he blamed most of his sister's problems on presenting late. John had made most of the big decisions of his teenage years knowing he was a servant of his biology, at least up to a point. Harry was sixteen before the proto-heat that heralded the start of puberty. More than that his parents were already noting with pride the interest their assumed alpha daughter was taking in omegas. They were kindly people who accepted her for what she was but Harry never forgave herself for robbing them of an alpha child, even after they died in the car crash a few years later.

Today torrential rain was keeping them indoors, both busy on their respective laptops. John had finally got round to looking up Jim Graeme again. The press seemed to love him, a local boy made good. Occasionally there was a veiled reference to something and John wondered if it was lack of evidence or influence that kept it from being more. He had a Graeme charity ball with Greg in a few days. He didn't have all the detail yet but he knew there had been a death that Graeme was likely implicated in and Sherlock was now helping as well.

Thoughts about Victor Trevor still hovered at the back of his mind. Sherlock's former lover was everything John feared he would be, pretty, rich, talented. None of which would matter so much if he were still happily bonded in the far east. He wasn't. The award winning artist had been widowed two years ago and had returned to his native west country.

'You were miles away.' Harry put a mug in front of him. 'Thinking about your mystery alpha?'

'Sort of.' He confessed.

'Tell me then.' She prompted, curling into her chair.

'He's different. Nice though, in his own way.' _Very much his own way,_ John thought.

'It'd be good, to see you settled.' Harry John could protest that it was early days she sat bolt upright with a small yelp, staring at her laptop.

'I got offered a job-sort of anyway- six months maternity cover starting in three weeks, my old boss.' John smiled at the way his sister suddenly seemed a little taller.

'Thanks John, I'd still be moping about if you hadn't came. Even if I am keeping you from _other things_.'

John threw a cushion which she dodged.

'Seriously though, it's been nice. Maybe before I start this job I could come visit you? You could show me the sights?'

He paused, this would take some explaining, on both sides. ' Yeah, we could sort something out.'

##########

John was regretting taking this shift now. He'd felt obliged because he'd been otherwise occupied so much recently and frankly he was a bit broke. He'd came straight off the train from Harry's. All he could think of if he dared to let his mind drift was Sherlock's scent and the way their limbs had tangled so naturally together.

'Morning Julie' He shouted with a wave to the receptionist at the desk as he went towards his room. The elderly beta made a slight but well practiced movement with her head to indicate he should join her in the office behind. He had been hoping for a quiet, quick clinic, he was obviously to be disappointed.

Julie closed the door over as she came through from the desk. 'Young man out there won't give his name but insists on seeing you. I've explained you're not on call but no one else would do. He was in a couple of days ago as well apparently. Look for yourself, behind the leaflets.'

He opened the door to the waiting room a crack and looked out. Joe. Trying to disappear into the corner.

'OK, can you show him through?' Julie raised her eyebrows but nodded.

John had just got settled in his room when Julie showed him in. 'Sorry, didn't know what else to do.' Joe said, heavy, tired eyes meeting Johns.

'Its fine, sit.' John said gently. Sitting next to him rather than at his desk.

'Look, I'm just going to say this. Either Greg doesn't know what Jim is, thinks he's just skimming off property deals and smuggling booze, or he does and he's trying to expose him. I don't want to know which. Neither of you seem the type though to just let that go on. Did you tell him about the club?' John nodded.

'There's more. Richard knows thing too.'

'Look Joe, I can't promise anything, I don't even know if Greg can.' John placed a hand on his sagging shoulder.

Joe shook his head. 'We can't carry on like this though. Richard, he's just an accountant, he didn't sign up for this. It's only a matter of time before he does something, something he can't fix.'

John moved to his desk and scribbled on a slip of paper. 'Phone me later, give me a chance to talk to Greg.' He handed the slip over. 'If you feel unsafe either of you, phone me and get yourselves somewhere public.' John tried to convey a steadiness he didn't feel as Joe left.

Greg was waiting as soon as he finished the clinic. Restless in his seat like someone waiting for bad news. John went through his talk with Joe, telling Greg about the erratic heats as well. How it tied him,even unbonded, to the alpha Richard.

'You think he's steady though, his health won't be an issue?'

'Greg don't try and make this about his hormones.' John replied with irritation.

' It's just I'd hate to get further into this and then have him go to peices under pressure.'

'If it comes to that the alpha' s a bigger risk. Joe grew up with Graeme.' John tried not to snap. From what he'd seen of the young omega he was pretty strong, he'd had to be.

'True.' Greg nodded thoughtfully. 'OK, I'll talk to internal affairs, see if there's something they can do.'

##########

After Greg left John ended up seeing another patient, a child, who had vomited all over the waiting room -and then all over John. He was walking home in a borrowed T shirt when a text came through.

_IA happy to use J as source - can offer protection. Can you talk to him alone at do tomorrow? GL_

_Can do, see you at 7. J W_

John ran himself a bath. The omega called him as he waited for it to cool. He passed on Greg's message and promised they'd talk more at the charity dinner. Joe sounded calmer than earlier, resolute.

John soaked in the hot water for nearly an hour. When he got back out a text was waiting.

_On case. Thai later? always starving now. SH_

John smiled, grabbing his book out of his suitcase and heading without thinking for Sherlock's room. He lay on the bed, discarding his towel and wrapping himself in the alphas gold dressing gown, generally absorbing the scent he'd missed so badly.

Sherlock must have crept in because the next thing John knew he was in the doorway. Leaning on one crutch, staring at John in a way that made his stomach flip.

'That's a very expensive garment you know.' Sherlock said, crossing the room.

'Not for the likes of me then.' John grinned. As the alpha joined him on the bed he growled, a feral noise John was sure the alpha hadn't known himself he was capable of. It did sudden, violent, wonderful things to John's lower belly.

Sherlock's mouth was already on his, long fingers impatiently pulling the robe away, the pile of fabric sliding to the floor. John let himself sink into the bed, a wave of alpha pheromones encouraging him to slip into a warm, submissive place, even if only for a moment.

John could feel the alphas cock firming against him through layers of fabric and he was about to complain about being the only one naked when he had the sudden urge to have Sherlock in his mouth. He gently pushed the alpha away, smiling reassuringly when he looked rejected. He shifted, pulling Sherlock with him until the alpha was sitting on the edge of the bed. John sank down between his legs pulling a pillow with him because, though he may have felt like a teenager, his knees didn't. He hadn't done this in a long while. Recently he'd only sought out alphas for his heat and a heat demanded penetration and lots of it, no time to get fancy.

'Is this Ok?' John said stroking his thigh. Sherlock nodded, breathing hard and the omega carefully released him from his clothes, gently licking at first to get a feel for the alphas sensitive spots. He relished the feeling of control as he slid his mouth down Sherlock's length, eliciting a delicious moan, they were both aching for release. He enjoyed doing this, with the right alpha at least, and Sherlock was so helplessly responsive, not least John suspected, because he was enjoying the show John was putting on, making sure Sherlock saw how his lips and tongue slickly moved over him. The alpha was soon grabbing handfuls of bedding with white knuckles. Obviously fighting the urge to thrust into John's mouth. John took great satisfaction in the full body shudder of Sherlock's all-too-quick orgasm and the complete boneless collapse that followed. The alpha lay back on the bed With a grin. John moved to lie beside him.

'I'm sorry.' Sherlock exclaimed breathlessly, to John's confusion until the omega realised he was looking at John's still hard cock.

'Its alright, give yourself a minute.' John smirked, Sherlock looked wrecked. 'It won't take much.' He leaned in towards the alphas ear. 'I was halfway there just from the feeling of you in my mouth.'

Sherlock suddenly pulled John towards him, manoeuvring him until the omega's naked back was pressed against his still clothed chest. One gentle hand reached down to wrap around John while lips brushed the shell of his ear.

' Thank you- I've imagined you doing that- it felt incredible.' The alphas voice was shaky. There was a sense of satisfaction at having unravelled him so completely. Sherlock began to kiss and lick John's neck, the omega arching up to his mouth and thrusting into his hand. It wasn't dignified but John couldn't have cared less and was soon coming under Sherlock's hand. The alpha seemed surprised and intrigued to suddenly be sticky and they lay together on the bed after a quick clean up with tissues.

' The plaster is coming off tomorrow.' Sherlock said, breaking the comfortable silence. 'I should be more use to you then.' Fingers curled suggestively around John's hip. In spite of his recent orgasm arousal flickered in John's belly at the thought.

'You've not had second thoughts then?'

' Not now, though you should know I had a ...moment of weakness.' John shifted round to face him.

'Not what you think, I thought about starting suppressant again, I had the dose drawn but...'

'What stopped you?'

'A bee.' John smiled at him and wriggled closer.

' I know that brothel was a whole fucked up situation but-sometimes losing control that little bit can be great- you'll see.' John held his gaze for a few seconds. 'Now I'm starving. You said something about Thai?'

'Yes, I'll get a menu. As Sherlock hobbled off John stretched, his eyes resting on what was hanging on the outside of the wardrobe.

'Sherlock, what do you need a tux for?'He shouted absently, picking up the gold dressing gown.

'I wanted to talk to you about that.' The alpha stood hesitant in the doorway. ' I thought you could use some assistance with your undercover work.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has ended up more casefic and longer than planned. I'm un-betaed so if you spot anything that doesn't look right, especially on the timeline/deductions side please let me know. I think I said five chapters when I started this-I suspect now it will be more like ten. Who knows- I may get it finished inside a year (though not at this rate).


	8. Chapter 8

Sherlock had snuck out, leaving him sleeping. No doubt hoping to avoid awkward questions about why the cast was getting taken off his ankle so early.

John went about his usual morning routine in the empty flat before finally sitting down to his laptop to deal with the neglected inbox from his blog. He sent polite replies to most of the messages and printed off twenty or so that he thought Sherlock would perhaps deign to glance at. Though realistically he knew he'd be lucky to get one that held the detective's attention for more than ten minutes.

He was just writing up a new post about how Sherlock had broken his ankle when he heard him returning with Mrs Hudson in tow.

'Good as new are we?' John said as they came through the door. 'I know that cast came off early. Don't want to know how you persuaded them.'

' It's fine John don't fuss, a clean bill of health.' Sherlock said breezily.

'At least promise me no fire escapes for a while,OK?'

' Mine was the same John, didn't look after himself at all.' Mrs Hudson said, shaking her head. John and Sherlock exchanged an amused glance because she was making her usual assumption - but this was the first time it had been sort of true.

'Yours ran a drug cartel Mrs Hudson, hardly conducive to a healthy lifestyle.' Sherlock retorted.

'Yes well,' She said a little vaguely. 'I just brought you this lentil soup, I made far too much for me, I'm off out for the day now my cousin's down from Leeds.'

'Thank you Mrs Hudson, you're a star.' John said, getting up and taking the dish from her.'Isn't she Sherlock?' He got a noncommittal noise from the alpha and he shared an eye roll with the landlady as he saw her out of the flat. They chatted for a few minutes on the landing about the light that was now mysteriously not working before she took her leave.

He came back inside and as he shut the door a hand reached round his side and locked it.  
' She'll be gone all day.' Hot breath at his ear was soon joined by hands on his hips. He was breathing in pure aroused alpha, oxygen suddenly seemed overrated.

'I might have plans.' John said playfully, giving an involuntary yelp when Sherlock's hands tightened, pulling John back against his rapidly hardening cock.

John turned and reached for him, he actually looked surprisingly uncertain for someone coming on so strong. 'Are you sure you're up to this?' He said, fingers digging into Sherlock's shoulders.

'Of course, I know I'm _inexperienced_...'

'I actually meant the ankle.' John broke in smiling. I don't have any doubts about the rest of you.' He slid his hand down to rest on the alphas belt, slowly loosening it and pulling it from the loops.

'I'm fine.' Sherlock whispered his voice brittle. Then they were in motion towards the bedroom. Kisses messily exchanged and clothes discarded along the way. What they still wore when they arrived was impatiently stripped before John roughly pulled the alpha down on top of him.

So much bare skin contact seemed to calm Sherlock, make him serious. Their kisses softened as the alpha' s hand slid down John's belly and gently along his swelling flesh before moving between his legs. Tensing as his fingers found where John was sensitive, wet and, suddenly, oh so empty. He broke away.

'Contraception, condoms? I should have asked before now.' Sherlock licked kiss reddened lips anxiously.

'I'm on contraceptive pills and I know I'm clear. I've been tested at work . What about you?'

'I was tested for everything the last rehab I went to. Haven't touched anyone since or cocaine, I was always fastidious about needles anyway.'

'I've got some in my drawer but if you're happy like this?' The alpha nodded eagerly and they moved back into a long lazy kiss.

The omega had steeled himself a little. It wasn't that he expected Sherlock to be rough exactly, more over-enthusiastic. Actually he was gentle, heartbreakingly so. John closed his eyes, he could feel himself opening up and when a finger was slipped inside him his body was more than ready for the breach. When a second was added he arched into the contact.

He opened his eyes to find Sherlock was watching his face closely, the alpha's eyes bright and fierce. Without realising he was doing it John reached a hand up and stroked the angle of his face.

'You Ok? If it's too much for you, we can stop- any time yeah?' John said.

'I want this..you.' Sherlock said, his usual eloquence gone as he shifted between John's legs and ran fingers reverently along his inner thighs.

'I want you too.' John replied quietly, eyes running hungrily over the alpha, willing him on.He watched Sherlock's expression change as the alpha slowly entered him. A slight uncertainty was quickly replaced ( to John's own delight) by surprised joy.

As usual Sherlock's learning process was lightning. As he began to move he must have noticed how John was trying to shift around to get a particular friction. Sherlock, with typical efficiency, realised this could be done more easily and he gently moved John's legs and supported his hips till the omega's gasps seemed to satisfy him he'd got it right.

John, feeling thoroughly taken care of, let his eyes fall closed as he breathed in the alpha, letting Sherlock's scent envelope him. The first tendrils of climax beginning to curl deliciously in his toes. A discordant noise from the alpha broke his reverie, he opened his eyes.

Sherlock looked embarrassed.

I'm ...sorry.' He said, glancing at John and then looking away, slipping from John's body and easing away a little.

John first thought was that he'd lost his erection, no big deal, he was nervous. John gently slid his hand between them. That wasn't the problem, far from it. At the base of the alphas still very hard cock a knot was beginning to form.

Knotting was, biologically speaking, draining for an alpha and outside of heats only happened regularly in adolescents, hence the embarrassment. Sherlock's long denied body though seemed more than keen. The alpha shrank away from him, all his new found confidence gone.

'Hang on.' John grabbed his arms and rolled them both till Sherlock was on his back. Pinned with a move from a long ago hand to hand combat course.

'It's fine, just let me.' He planted a quick kiss on Sherlock's forehead.

'Won't it hurt.?' Sherlock said quietly.

'Like a bastard.' John grinned. 'Sometimes does, even during a heat, but only for a second. Then it's just, really intense, hopefully for both of us. You do know though afterwards we're stuck together for half an hour, no going to check your mould cultures.' The omega reached down to fondly stroke his hair.

Sherlock smiled, beginning to relax again.

John was actually glad about the position change. It gave him a view of Sherlock's face, flushed and beautiful, as John sank on to him. As he bore down he tried to consciously relax, open just that little bit more to let the knot ease inside.

The pain was sharp and took his breath away, he was vaguely aware of Sherlock's hands coming up to grip his thighs. An instinctive reaction as the first pulse of the alpha' s cock swelled inside him. The pain was soon chased by his own orgasm. He could feel how good it had been for Sherlock in the pulls, twitches and spasms of the body below him. He was glad and proud he'd been the first one to do this for him. He leaned backwards supporting himself with his palms on Sherlock's thighs.

'Let's try and get you more comfortable.' Sherlock said softly, looking at John with a sort of awe. He grabbed a handful of tissues and cleaned John's semen off his stomach before pulling a couple of pillows onto his chest and encouraging the wiped out omega to lean forward, gingerly shifting his legs to make it easier. He finally pulled a blanket over John's back.

Normally John hated knotting. Obviously he liked coming hard well enough, but being joined afterwards was usually just plain awkward. This was different. He was enjoying the cosy feeling of the two of them bundled together, Sherlock's slim arms wrapped around him. The way his skin dragged slightly against Sherlock's as they breathed.

'You Ok?' John said softly, though it was redundant. Sherlock looked utterly content, eyes closed below him.

'Of course.' The alpha petted John's hair.

'You know, I might not be quite like that during my heat. I've been told I can be...demanding.'

_May as well tell him now..._

Sherlock's eyes drifted open. 'Demanding of what?'

John laughed nervously. 'The usual- asking for it harder, faster. Billy took to calling me sir.'

The alpha looked amused. 'I shall endeavour to keep up-but I am not calling you sir.'

'Just thought I'd warn you.' John grinned and Sherlock's arms tightened around him. They both dozed a little. John felt it a genuine loss when he finally felt Sherlock slip from his body.

The next couple of hours were a bit of a daze. They cleaned themselves up and John heated the soup Mrs Hudson had left. They were curled together on the sofa, John beginning to idly wonder how soon the fabulous smelling alpha beside him would be ready for another round, when a text from Greg reminded him that they did ,actually, have something to do tonight.

_Internal affairs want us to wear recording devices. Will set up in car. you OK with that? GL_

John hastily replied in the affirmative and organised himself to go and pick up the tuxedo that he needed.

A few hours later they were sitting in the living room, in dressing gowns,but otherwise ready, waiting for Greg.

'How is this going to work then, do I know you or what?' John said, he couldn't pretend that he wasn't the tiniest bit pissed off with Sherlock for muscling in. This had been, for a change, his thing.

'No, Anthea and I will be sitting at a table with people from various charities, well away from you. The idea is she is a caseworker for vulnerable omegas, I'm simply her alpha attending as a plus one. It should allow her to ask some slightly uncomfortable questions without arousing too much suspicion.'

'Anthea?' John asked, surprised.

'Of course, a lone alpha would stand out. That's why I'm not dressed either.' He had neglected to mention Anthea.

Just as John was about to ask more questions Mrs Hudson showed Greg in, gushing about how handsome he was dressed up. He looked worried and when the landlady left they found out why.

'I could smell you two from downstairs. Don't get me wrong, I'm happy for you, but I don't see how it's going to work for tonight.'

They had both showered carefully but now John was thinking about it medically that was never going to cut it. Knotting released hormones that wouldn't leave either of their systems for a couple of days. He was mortified to have let Greg down.

' Don't be so negative Inspector.'Sherlock said, standing and walking over behind John.

'Can't you see how a misbehaving omega could be used to you're advantage here.' He'd put a hand on the back of John's chair, fingertips brushing the back of his neck. John, in spite of the company, leaned into the contact.

Lestrade ran a hand wearily over his jaw line. 'Go on then, explain it to me.'

Sherlock sighed in exasperation having one of his 'surely everyone can see this' moments.

'You two turn up acting like you did before, perhaps you lay it on a little thicker for effect. It's obvious though, to Graeme and everyone else, that John has had another alpha.'

'Graeme will ask you quietly about it at some point, offer help, public humiliation is not his style. He will immediately see it as another opportunity for you to owe him. Combined with what appears to be your covert and subtle handling of the dead omega from the other day you are well on the way to being his favourite member of the Met.'

Greg let out a breath. 'That could work. You're thinking he'll offer assistance in scaring the other alpha off?'

Sherlock nodded. 'Or perhaps, with your inevitable aggression and sexual frustrations at knowing your omega has been with someone else.' Either way if you're wearing recording equipment you'll have him admitting criminal activity.'

Greg was nodding thoughtfully as Mrs Hudson showed Anthea in.

The brunette omega was, predictably, tasteful and immaculate in strapless, floor length, green velvet. Revealing, but not so much that it would draw attention.

Sherlock's phone chimed and he chuckled, showing it to John.

_Don't break her. MH_

Sherlock was replying just as Greg took a call. He nodded to John. 'Our car's here. We better do the erm..if it's still necessary?' Greg looked to Sherlock.

'Of course. You want the appearance of keeping up appearances. Absurd as that is.' He said, turning to Anthea who looked confused. 'I'll explain.'

John went after the alpha to the bedroom. A little pleased, in spite of himself, that Sherlock's eyes followed him fiercely.

Scented and dressed a few minutes later he crossed the room to squeeze Sherlock's hand briefly. Sherlock leaned forward lips brushing his ear. 'Be safe.'

'You too. Try and give your ankle a break.' John replied, squeezing harder, because he might be the alpha' s lover but he was also practically his doctor. He left with Greg realising with a stab of reflexive jealousy that _his_ alpha was now going to have to scent Anthea.

##########

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was meant to be longer but since it's been a while I decided to post what I have. on the plus side there is smut.
> 
> Also, I think I'm making up some bits of omegaverse biology but since it's all made up I hope that's ok.
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm just going to say this-I don't like this chapter. It's been annoying me for weeks. Plot-wise it gets to where I want it to go but-meh. 
> 
> Please give me constructive criticism!

Greg leaned across and kissed John's hair, the colourful lights of the dancefloor behind them reflecting off his face.

John had just finished telling a (slightly edited)version of the story of a particularly hairy evacuation he'd been involved in on his last tour. Their table, a mix of Graeme employees including Joe and Richard, were lapping it up but now the meal was cleared away John's corrupted scent was attracting attention. Excuses were starting to be made to walk behind his chair and discreetly sniff.

They were making an effort to be extra affectionate for the benefit of their audience as per Sherlock's suggestion and the mixed messages they were giving off soon attracted Melissa Graeme. She leaned between them, giving John a decidedly probing look. Across the table Joe made to leave for a cigarette.

'I'll join you, not that I'm encouraging smoking but I could do with a breath of air.' John said, meeting Melissa's look coolly. As he left she took his seat beside Greg.

Joe had made for the front door of the hotel, ignoring the crowded terrace that opened off the ballroom. John followed, scanning the room as he left. He could only see the back of Sherlock's head, occasionally nodding at something Anthea said. John would swear even the angle of his shoulders looked bored.

He found Joe perched on a wall at the edge of a loading bay near the kitchen doors. The only others nearby were a beta couple who were not nearly as discreet with the joint they were smoking as they seemed to think.

He sat down beside the younger omega. 'I've got something for you, someone you should call.' He handed over a plain slip of paper with a mobile number .

'This is someone new?' Joe asked, holding it between finger and thumb dubiously.

' It's a good thing, means they're taking you seriously.' John replied. Joe carefully folded the paper and tucked it in his pocket, looking unconvinced. He fished out a business card at the same time, handing it to John.

'This is where they run things from- for now. It's a show flat in one of the developments, changes every few months. There's no omegas or drugs but that's where they do the admin, for want of a better word.' Joe flicked his cigarette to the ground, grinding it out. 'Richard works there one day a week. There's paperwork, to do with transport mostly.' Joe got up then quickly sat back down.

'He's applied for another job. Oil company in Aberdeen.' Joe shook his head. ' He doesn't quite get Jim won't just let him go.' John was glad they'd decided in the end he wasn't to wear a microphone (something about the legality of him not being a police officer). He had the feeling he was the only outlet Joe had for his frustrations.

'So, I'm assuming that you and Greg is just for this?' Joe said, changing the subject, looking genuinely curious.

'There is someone else, wasn't at the start. We've had to work around it.' There was no point in lying.

Joe got up again brushing stray ash from his jacket. 'You coming?'

I'm going to sit for a minute, maybe best we're not seen together too much anyway. Thanks for this- I know it's hard.' John looked at him sympathetically and Joe shrugged slightly as he moved off.

John took his time going back in, looking round the room. He could see Greg dancing with Melissa Graeme, shoulders rounded and eyes sad. She was rubbing his arm and talking close to his ear. John idly wondered if he was channelling his ex's infidelity to look so wounded. Hopefully anything useful that was being said was getting picked up over the noise of the band.

He wandered towards the bar, the area was slightly elevated and he could see the whole party. He found Anthea, still talking animatedly. She was a natural, but then she would be. He couldn't see Mycroft Holmes wasting his time with anyone sub-par.

After a few moments of more frantic looking than he'd care to admit to, he found Sherlock in an odd corner, he was steering someone gently by the elbow. It took John a few seconds to work out who it was. _Of all the places_ \- and yet it made sense _if_... He reached behind him to where copies of the silent auction list were scattered on a table.

_Glen Sunset - A small watercolour by Victor Trevor, best known for his romantic works inspired by the mountains of the Scottish Highlands and Japan._

##########

The scenting had been less awkward than Sherlock had feared. Anthea had been a field asset for years and such subterfuge was second nature. The needful was done, clinically. If she sensed his inexperience, his clumsiness, she gave no sign. For that he was grateful.

The event was the sort of thing his mother organised and he had been avoiding for all his adult life. A room full of people talking about nothing and getting drunk at the fastest pace polite society would allow. Dull beyond belief.

He let Anthea carry the conversation while he kept an eye on John who was now walking towards the main lobby with another male. Lestrade was getting up to dance with Melissa Graeme. Sherlock considered discreetly following John but calculated it would only anger the omega who was more than able in these situations. John didn't need an alpha that way, not at all. That he seemed to want Sherlock was almost unbelievable.

'There are always rumours about how they're forced into these things-you'll know that' Sherlock let his attention drift back round to the group behind him. The slight slur (obviously had more than one before she came out) and the conspiratorial tone drawing his attention.

Most of their table had drifted off to dance and a matronly omega was leaning towards Anthea. His brother's assistant was playing the green but keen caseworker angle well and she was getting the benefit of the older omega's experience. She'd been coaxing information from various people all night but so far nothing really new. Other than a ruthlessness in buying up property , which seemed to attract grudging admiration, there had been no sign Graeme was considered anything but successful.

'The ones from abroad have it worst of course.' Her alpha chimed in, shooting Sherlock with a look of distaste, John's scent no doubt obvious.  
'Don't know the language, no family and they're frightened of police.'

'With good reason.' The omega took a gulp of wine, her voice a little too loud. 'You know what happened after that boy escaped.'.

'What was that?' Anthea said, sipping her own drink casually.

'Boy of not more than twenty,got away from one of these places, he told the others he'd get help. Went straight to a police station. By the time they raided the place the following day the omegas were gone. He hadn't spoke to anyone else.' The omega tipped the remainder of her glass into her mouth. Her alpha discreetly moving the wine bottle out of her reach.

Sherlock turned slightly towards them and the omega tensed. Sherlock, smelling as he did of another omega, was not the sort she wanted to share confidences with. Anthea threw him a glance, a signal to bugger off and let her get on with it.

'I'll just be at the bar.' He smiled politely as he moved away, getting evil looks in return. He crossed the ballroom, now dimly lit by fairy lights, candles and the colourful glow of the dance floor.

He caught Victor's scent before he saw him. He thought at first it was perhaps an olfactory hallucination. He'd got off fairly lightly in terms of suppressant withdrawal (thanks to John) and he thought this was perhaps it's parting shot but when he turned round Victor was there. Hair a little shorter, eyes when they met his a little more lined but unmistakably Victor. He had no time to think.

'Victor, you must see this awful print.' He said jovially, as if they'd spoken only ten minutes ago. He gently steered the omega's arm and fortunately Victor seemed to have enough residual trust to go along with it. Trust that Sherlock had, frankly, done nothing to deserve the last time they'd seen each other.

He pulled them into a quiet seating area off the main room, standing in front of a gaudy print of a ship being tossed on rough seas.

'Its bloody terrible Sherl.' Victor looked at the picture then glanced at him, amused. 'There's still never a dull moment is there? I assume you're working on a case.'

'You know about me?' Sherlock had for some reason assumed his work would be news to the omega.

'I've been in Japan, not a cave. I can use the internet you know.'

'I am working, its a little complicated.' Sherlock felt a sudden pang of sympathy that he'd didn't understand till he realised Victors scent was heavy with a broken bond. _Widowed._

Victor knew that he'd noticed and was obviously waiting for him to say something. 'I'm sorry about... Do you have family?' Sherlock asked uncertainly. _John's area._

'One, he's with my in-laws in Japan till the end of school.' Victor's eyes narrowed, he was reading Sherlock's scent too.

'I'm involved with someone, not bonded.' Sherlock said, staring at the print again, feeling he had somehow undersold his relationship with John.

' Not yet.' Victor smiled and elbowed him gently.  
'Yes, well, early days.' Sherlock could feel himself getting red-faced. He had barely considered his future relationship with John. Discussing it with the closest thing he had to an ex while undercover just might make his head explode. 'Thank you for your discretion.' He said formally and made to move away.

'Sherlock?' Victor touched his arm. 'My show opens next week, why don't you come along? Both of you.' He produced a card. 'Text me and I'll send you an invite. Don't worry I'll keep quiet.'Victor raised his eyebrows in an expression that Sherlock couldn't, wouldn't, have resisted once upon a time. He nodded slightly as he left Victor looking at the print. As he turned, his eyes unexpectedly met John's as Lestrade led him onto the dance floor.

##########

After John had been knocked sideways by the sight of Sherlock with Victor he had numbly watched Greg have a short, intense chat with Jim Graeme in a quiet corner of the room. The alpha had then found him and asked him to dance, agreed code for when they had what they needed and could leave, their obvious 'issues' reason enough for a hasty departure.

They left the dance floor again a few minutes later after a slow number. Greg's hand firm in the small of his back. As he leaned in to the alpha John sincerely wished it was Sherlock's touch. He wished they were scented, marked ,bonded. He wished there was no doubt.

As they walked out the front door to get a cab he spotted Joe out of the corner of his eye. He was sitting on the steps, hunched over and didn't look right. As John approached he realised how far from right the young omega smelled too. He was aware of Greg stopping in his tracks several feet behind.

Joe turned, face flushed and sweating. 'Came on suddenly. First time in ages I've had no warning.' He looked apologetic. John crouched beside him, lifting his wrist and taking his speeding pulse.

'I think I'll see Joe home. Catch you up?' John threw over his shoulder to Greg. The alpha nodded and quickly, gratefully, left. John helped the now shaky omega into a cab, chaperoning him to the small flat that had been a present from Jim. Thankfully it was reasonably close by.

He sent Joe to change while he looked out food and something to drink. Joe returned in a bath robe and took a long drink from the proffered glass wincing slightly.

'Sorry-Pinch of salt.' John said. 'Helps replace what you're losing in sweat.'

Joe nodded, edgy. 'Everything alright? Is Richard on his way?' John asked.

'I think so. It's just we decided the next time that we'd just do it, bond. No point in waiting.' He smiled shyly at John. 'We just didn't expect it to be so soon.'

'Oh-well congratulations.' John said, moving to hug him, mindful that Joe was a mass of sensitivity. He found tears springing to his eyes and he hurriedly took his leave. Taking the tube rather than a cab just to give himself the extra minutes to pull himself together.

Baker Street was surprisingly noisy when he got back. Music and giggles spilling out of Mrs Hudson's flat. Her cousin of course. Doubtless wine and possibly 'herbal soothers' had been consumed.

Upstairs it was a little more business-like. Greg was swearing under his breath at a laptop while Sherlock was draped over his chair, tie rakishly undone. Like a bored James Bond.

'Right,' Greg said. 'Lets try this one.' A sound file started to play and they all listened intently. John perched on the arm of Sherlock's chair and a hand came to rest gently on his back.

JG: _Missy couldn't help but notice. I'm sorry._

_GL: Risk of the job. I'd been working flat out for weeks. He was lonely Jim, I don't blame him really._

_JG: Still, an omega that's spoken for. I wouldn't let it stand. Alpha in your position, it's the loss of face as much as anything._

_GL: Can't do much can I. It's one of his old army mates, what's worse they'll be working together._

_JG: I blame the alpha not John. They're all slaves to their hormones at the end of the day. Mind you if Missy did something like that to me I'd be feeling a little rough round the edges (Graeme' s voice dropped). The offer from before still stands you know, I could arrange a male, now I know._..

GL: _Thanks but not at the moment._

_JG: You're a romantic, I can respect that. Let me know if you change your mind. As for the alpha, well, there are things that can persuade him to keep his knot to himself, that's all I'll say. I know you're working in the background for me on, well, certain things, that cuts both ways as far as I'm concerned._

Greg turned the tape off.

'A reference to our dead sculptor.' Sherlock sighed.

'Think so.' Greg replied.

'Is it enough to do something?' John said.

'Maybe, it's a bit vague, IA will need to get the warrant.' Greg shut the laptop. Glancing at the papers on the desk beside him, his eyes narrowed.

'What's this address?'

'Anthea left it. An omega who got away from one of the brothels made a report there. By the time the place was raided the omegas had been moved. I was going to look into it.'

'This is where IA are based. I mean, it's a big station, probably just a coincidence.' Greg sounded like he was trying to convince himself.  
'The universe is rarely so lazy.' Sherlock said pensively. 'Something Mycroft says.'

'Shit. Joe.' Greg looked at John. 'They don't know any more than I've got a source but if he calls...'

'I'll text but he won't have phoned them yet. He wasn't keen and besides, they plan to bond during this heat. Probably won't surface for a couple of days.' John found himself avoiding Sherlock's eye as he tapped his phone.

' How lucky they didn't tape you too.' Greg looked queasy.

John nodded. He had started fidget to fidget anxiously when the phone dinged with a reply. 'We're ok.' He sighed.

'Go home Greg, get some sleep.' John said, running a medical eye over the alpha.

'Yep, you're right.'Greg stood decisively, stretching. 'I'll be in touch, thanks again.

The alpha left and they could hear him being accosted by Mrs Hudson and her cousin on the way down, much to Sherlock's amusement.

John stood too. 'Well,I need tea.' He just assumed two cups.

'That was peculiar, I had no idea Victor was even in the country.'

John glanced up briefly from the comforting ritual of kettle, tea bags, milk.

'You did though.' Sherlock was looking at him keenly. John decided he might want scotch instead. He split the difference, splashing spirit into the steaming mugs, before carrying them back to Sherlock's chair and sitting back on the arm, glad he was facing away from the piercing stare.

'I only looked him up online. It's not like I hired a detective or something.' John said embarrassed and defensive at once.

' It's just as well, most of them are idiots. I don't mind. I'd have done the same in your position, well I'd have asked Mycroft to do it for me. I suppose I should take it as a sort of flattery. ' Frank Sinatra and giggles drifted up from the flat below.

Sherlock got to his feet, smoothing down his suit. He gently prised the mug from John's grasp. 'Will you dance with me?' Sherlock held a hand out. 'Please? We seem to have music whether we want it or not.'

John just smiled at him but the alpha was deadly serious. Hand extended formally like he was in a regency costume drama. He settled into Sherlock's arms and the alpha led elegantly as they drifted round the room. _I've got you under my skin,_ seeping up through the floor.

'I don't know if I'd be a good bond mate John. You should know. Less still a good parent.'

'What brought that on?' John tried to look at Sherlock's face but the way they were dancing made it difficult without looking him straight in the eye. 'Why don't we see how we go with this heat first, eh? Won't be long now. I don't agree by the way.'

Sherlock pulled him closer, nosing his as yet unblemished scent gland. 'I know I can tell.' Sherlock purred into his ear, Drawing John's hips closer.

'You'd be a great bondmate, you're respectful and kind - in your own way. You don't assume or demand anything. Don't get me wrong, you're off your head, I don't really want to share a fridge with you and I wouldn't be surprised if you get me killed one day. John stopped abruptly and looked up at him, he appeared to be proposing, omegas didn't propose. They submitted, presented their neck.

'I'd like us to bond, doesn't need to be this heat or the one after but...' Sherlock let his head fall, drawing lines with nose and lips over the scent gland. It should be all the answer John needed but he still wanted to hear it. He needed to know Sherlock _thought_ he wanted to bond, wasn't just following his knot. He tightened his grip on Sherlock's shoulders and a hand threaded into his hair.

'I never thought I'd want to.' Sherlock said, wrapping John tightly in his arms.'I find I do.' The music stopped abruptly and raucous laughter from downstairs  took its place. They stepped apart and looked at each other for a second before John lifted both mugs, handing one to Sherlock. He found he was grinning uncontrollably round a mouthful of tea as they silently toasted.

Sherlock's phone rang and John moved to go and change clothes. The tone of voice though, quickly stopped him.

' _Who have you been talking to, Mycroft?'_

 _'I see, just as well she doesn't work for the secret service or anything isn't it.'_ Sherlock's sarcasm heavy tone seemed to be totally lost on the effusive voice at the other end- 'Mother' Sherlock mouthed.

 _'If you must know he's a doctor.' (_ More enthusiastic noises on the other end) _' An army doctor. Captain John Watson.'_

_'Well I can't do that I'm afraid I don't have one, no, not a single one-even on my phone.'_

At this John grabbed his own phone and moved to hook an arm round Sherlock's neck as he snapped a photo of the two of them. Sherlock looked daggers at him.

_' We're very busy tomorrow I'm afraid. I know it's her birthday, I have sent a card. The volume of cases make it impossible...'_

John made a decisive grab for the phone _._

'Mrs Holmes? John Watson. Yeah nice to speak to you too. Sorry about Sherlock, he's got an experiment at a sensitive stage.'

'Of course we can come out tomorrow if it's his aunt's birthday.'

'Mycroft's taking his car, even better.' John dodged a cushion tossed in his direction.

'I've got one right here, sending it through now.' He grinned at Sherlock as he sent the photo.

'See you at two tomorrow then. Bye' He looked at Sherlock, defiant.

'It will be hell you know.' Sherlock said flatly.

'That's how families are meant to be. Consider yourself lucky, I've done my fair share of weddings and funerals with Harry.' John was sliding out of his jacket, he remembered the card from Joe.

'I meant to give this to Greg. Address where they run things from apparently.' Sherlock took the slightly dog-eared card from his hand.

'Well we could look into this. If I'm being forced to visit my parents tomorrow you could indulge me with a little breaking and entering afterwards, hmm?'


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for all the support with the last chapter.

John gently wriggled out from under the weight of Sherlock's limbs when he was woken by his ringing phone. Absently kissing a forearm as he broke free.

The name on the screen and the time immediately worried him. Joe. It was barely seven in the morning. He answered quietly, padding naked through to the living room. The younger man was having one of those reasonably lucid half hours between waves of his heat and was following up on last night's text. He sounded groggy but content and it broke John's heart to explain the shitty situation they found themselves in.

Joe took it calmly, a little too calmly for John's liking, so he did something he never did. He asked to speak to the alpha. Richard was borderline aggressive as you would expect post bonding but he took the information in at least. John ended the conversation by suggesting he made sure Joe ate a little and drank plenty.

He thought about staying up, getting on with something useful but decided, sod it. He was going back to bed. He inserted himself back into Sherlock's arms and was soothed to sleep within minutes.

A few hours later he woke to weak sunlight and a pleasant tickle on his thigh. Sherlock was lying between John's legs. His mouth working upwards from John's knee in licks, nips and open-mouthed kisses. John shoved a hand into the alpha's hair to let him know that he was awake.

Sherlock's lips left his skin with a wet noise. 'Morning.'

'Morning.' John replied, relaxing into his touch. He gasped as the alpha's mouth perfectly engulfed his sensitive flesh. He let his hold in Sherlock's hair ground him. He was good at this, neither too rough nor too hesitant, reading him perfectly. John came, crying out, _howling_ , in a way Mrs Hudson was unlikely to mistake for anything other than what it was.

As he recovered he realised Sherlock was touching himself, frantically thrusting into his own fist. John gave his hair a tug. 'Sit up I want to see you.' He said hoarsely.

Sherlock sat back on his heels and looked at the wrecked omega spread below him. 'Can I?' He said, licking his lips.

'God yes.' John whispered. Eyes glued to the alpha' s cock until Sherlock emptied himself onto his stomach.

Sherlock cleaned John carefully. Then when they got up, without asking, made tea and toast. John didn't say anything but he knew that this close attention was the beginning of nesting. Caring, protecting, keeping John strong for the exertions of heat.

John hadn't ever looked forward to a heat, not really. It was an itch to be scratched. This time though he found he was looking forward to the in between. Those brief moments of exquisite, sated quiet when they'd lie and dose in each others arms.

The mood shifted a little when they got the text announcing Mycroft was half an hour away. Sherlock was silent as he dressed.

'What should I wear?' John said, partly as a way to break the tension.

'Whatever, no tie though, mother hates them at family parties.' Sherlock was in his usual suit so John dressed similarly.

Mycroft when he arrived wasn't wearing a tie either but while John had decided he looked passable and Sherlock looked fabulous as ever Mycroft looked like he'd been started by a fire alarm. Anthea on the other hand looked lovely. All the hard edges of working week softened away by a pretty floral dress and a messy bun.

It was the other omega who drove as they left London behind. Transitioning from motorway to A road to B road and finally onto a single track. Then onto what John realised was a driveway as they passed a Lodge house and made their way through an elegant park.

'Bloody hell Sherlock.' John muttered.

'I will resist the urge to point out that this was your idea.' Sherlock said smoothly as they got out of the car.

They walked at least twice the length of the flat into a large airy room with French doors that opened out into the garden. It was buzzing with the conversation of about thirty or so people. Mostly older, milling around with champagne flutes and plates of dainty food.

'This must be John.' A posh female voice came at him from behind and he smiled warmly as he turned. 'Mrs Holmes?'

'Oh I like him Sherlock. Marion. Sherlock's aunt.' She held out her hand. 'Since Vi is five years younger I'm going to take that as a compliment.'  
John wished her a happy birthday and she led them over to a group where Mr and Mrs Holmes sat. They introduced themselves and Mrs Holmes hugged him (Mr Holmes excusing himself from the otherwise all omega group). She was actually almost tearful at the idea of Sherlock having someone and John felt the weight of the responsibility keenly.

Sherlock brought them champagne and perched on the arm of John's chair, peripheral to the group of older omegas. Aunts, uncles, friends. They asked him lots of questions, about the army mostly. Omegas in professional or senior jobs were still a bit of a novelty in the forces. John didn't think about it much, he'd just got on with it, but it was obvious they were impressed he'd taken the opportunities they'd never had.

He was asked about his parents and he gave them a potted history, skirting round Harry in his well practiced way. The conversation finally came round to Sherlock's work and the alpha told the story of one of the first cases they'd worked together. Of how they'd cornered jewel thieves in a warehouse.

'Of course we were lucky, John had his service revolver on him, otherwise we'd have lost them.' Sherlock said with a quick private smile to him.

John looked round the group seeing mostly indulgent faces at their obvious affection. Except Mrs Holmes, her face had shut down and she looked thoughtful. There was a quick, polite upturn of her mouth as their eyes met but something had changed.

John went back over what had been said and then... _of course_ , his parents. She was realising just how common he actually was. He'd got so far on being Dr/Captain Watson but now he'd explained his background. Well, breeding will out, that was the expression.

He excused himself, heading for one of the French doors that seemed to have been left open for smokers. There were steps down into a rose garden and he sat on a stone bench fighting the urge to cry or hit something, probably both. He knew Sherlock was too much of an independent thinker to hang on his parents opinions but it still stung.

There was the scuff of expensive shoes on the steps behind him and he steeled himself as Mycroft sat beside him. He wasn't in the mood.  
The older brother fished a pack of expensive looking cigarettes out of his pocket and there was a rasp of a match as one was lit.

'It's not what you think.' Mycroft said inhaling thoughtfully. John stared straight ahead, not wanting his teary eyes to be seen.

'Its not that you're from the wrong sort of family. They don't care about that. In my experience truly old money never does. No, it was the gun.'

'The gun? Surely they know what Sherlock does? It's in the papers every other week.' John turned to face him.

'They know what Sherlock does yes. They don't like it though. They accept it because they know the alternative involves police cells and rehab or worse. They have held onto the romantic notion that one day Sherlock would accept his biology, bond and put all that nonsense behind him. Then you come along.' Mycroft smiles at him, it's a little unsettling. John supposes it's meant to be.

'They had hoped for a calming influence, I always knew better.'

John absorbed this for a few moments and something creaked into place in his head as he remembered the first conversation with Mycroft, the insulting offer of money...

'When we first met, you were matchmaking?'

'I was hopeful that over time things may develop, I never thought he'd be on suppressant long term but he got it into his head it was the only way he could cope . I couldn't have anticipated the ankle of course.' The alpha stood and threw his cigarette end into damp undergrowth at the back of a flower border.

'Don't get me wrong it would have been nice if one of the omegas mother suggested had fitted the bill. Unfortunately all they had going for them was, well, a dowry. Old fashioned term but that's what it amounts to.'

'You people can't need the money.' John glanced around himself pointedly.

'You'd be surprised. It looks impressive from a distance, it's supposed to of course but up close.' Mycroft gently kicked a crumbling section of balustrade with a brogue. John looked down the garden to where Mr Holmes was showing some of the guests the roses. The grounds were certainly overgrown in places now he was looking closely.

'The roof leaks, it's damp. There's quite a list if expensive problems. I help when I can of course, as does Sherlock when a big case pays out. Anyway, the point is he'd have given in eventually, bonded to one of the trust funders for mothers sake but it would have been an unhappy bond for all concerned I think.' John remembered the conversation with Greg in the pub weeks ago.

'You on the other hand he adores. Mother will come round when she sees that.' Mycroft looked sharply at his watch, obviously uncomfortable.

'I should go mingle.' He nodded politely before hurrying back inside.

John sat thoughtfully in the pleasant breeze for a few minutes, watching the slow progress of Mr Holmes and company round the obviously much loved roses. Mycroft Holmes as cupid, God help them.

He caught Sherlock's scent before he saw him, his senses heightening in the build up to his heat, and as the alpha sat John leaned in.

'Was Mycroft threatening you.' Sherlock said, kissing the top of his head absently and handing him another glass of champagne.

'No more than usual. You escaped their clutches then?' John said reflecting how far Sherlock had come in a short time to be so openly affectionate in his parents house.

'I said I wanted to give you the tour, which I do. Come on.'

Sherlock showed him round the house, keeping up a steady stream of anecdotes most of which seemed to concern some disgusting experiment or humiliating Mycroft, sometimes both.

It seemed Sherlock's childhood had been happy if eccentric. They finished in Sherlock's old bedroom. Two adjoining rooms actually, with a very old fashioned bathroom. A good distance from the rest of the frequently used living space.

'It was decided I'd be better off here after a particularly pungent experiment with pig intestines.' Sherlock said matter of factly.

'I wish I'd had this much privacy growing up.' John said, staring out the window across park and fields.

'It was certainly advantageous, the door even locks.' Sherlock said, as John heard the click of the lock engaging. When he turned Sherlock was looking at him with undiluted lust.

'I've created a monster.' John said, arousal settling in his belly as Sherlock backed him against the wall.They fumbled their way to the narrow bed.

'We need to be quick in case your mum comes looking for us.' John said, protesting as Sherlock divested him of his clothing. Now there was a sentence he never thought he'd use at his age.

'Doors locked only one key.' Sherlock replied, pulling John on top of him.

It proved quick anyway. Mouths and hands and skin on skin friction working with the risk of being caught to quickly make them a sticky breathless mess. John was glad he'd stripped actually. The thought of having to drive back to London with Mycroft in come stained clothing was too horrible to contemplate.

'We could have waited till we got home you know.' John said, convincing no one as he stretched indolently. He'd loved it.

'Well I'm not keeping count.' Sherlock said. 'Anyway we have a flat to break into later.'

'Won't there be security?' John said, trying to get his hormone addled brain working again.

'Very little physical, why would you throw a lot of security at a virtually empty flat with some brochures? Would look very suspicious. No, there'll be a guard for the building as you'd expect. Useless most likely.'

John didn't share his confidence. They'd probably do what they always did. Rush in without much of a plan and then get out of any tight spots with the aid of Sherlock's lightning brain or John's gun. It had served them well.

They cleaned up, dressed and rejoined the party just as the birthday cake was being brought out. They tried to ignore the fact that anyone within three feet would know exactly what they'd been up to.

John noticed Anthea kept the windows open on the way home.

##########

A few hours later they were sitting in an old fashioned pub across the road from the address Joe had given them. Practically untouched pints in front of them.

'So, security?' John said quietly, Sherlock's eyes followed his left hand as it unconsciously patted the weight of his gun.

'CCTV and one guard.' Sherlock replied, staring into the still lit lobby of the building. 'Only CCTV downstairs, that bank of monitors at the desk looks impressive but only covers the finished floor. Once we get in and up the stairs it should be childs play. We'll go in the side entrance while we create a distraction.'

They watched as two well dressed people, probably sales,left. Probably omegas. Most salespeople were. It made sense, alphas had more money broadly speaking and omega pheromones seemed to loosen pockets.

'Come on.' Sherlock got up suddenly and John hurried alongside.

The omega's scent was getting stronger as his heat drew closer. Sherlock, while not distracted with the case, was torturing himself with doubts. He worried about being found lacking in some way, about somehow not being enough of an alpha for John. Or worse, about losing control, being too rough. He tried to focus on the task at hand.  
They walked to the side of the building in a casual roundabout way. The lock on the temporary site door was laughably easy.

'Now for the distraction.' Sherlock said, getting out his phone while John held the door in place. He had ran through the options and decided to go with straight out angry and demanding with undertones of entitlement. He phoned the number that put him through to the front desk where the guard sat.

He had a story about a lost watch, an expensive watch. He ranted and practically accused the guard of stealing it. This persuaded the guard into moving away from the desk and frantically looking for the thing.

John was on the verge of laughing as they made their way in past the now unwatched cameras and up to the safety of the first floor. Sherlock abruptly terminating the call. They heard the guard curse loudly as he sat heavily back at desk to find a dead line.

'You're not worried he'll do a round or something?' John whispered.

'Hardly, he has two newspapers and a detective novel. He's in for the night.' Sherlock said as he opened the show flat door.

Inside it was very like the place Joe had shown John. They methodically searched the rooms. Working together seamlessly as usual. They were on the point of giving up when John noticed the headboard. It was a chocolate coloured velvet and looked deep and squashy but up close was rigid and hollow.

He gestured for the detective and they moved the bed as quietly as possible. Easing away the thin layer of plywood clipped to the back of the headboard. It revealed several ledger type books neatly fastened to the inside.

'Quite ingenious really.' John said snapping a picture with his phone. Sherlock gave an unimpressed shrug.

They opened the oldest looking one. Page after page of neatly printed columns. Postcodes , dates and then two columns of numbers.

'Cocaine, goes back years.' Sherlock said, running quickly through the pages.

 Sherlock wondered if he had ever been an indirect customer of Graeme. They were taking out another book when they heard the sickening click of the door opening and two sets of footsteps.

' That Gill one is a bit ripe isn't she. Must be close for it to linger like that.'

'Yeah, she's a prickly little thing though, I bet she's not had a proper knot in years.'

Sherlock felt nausea rise in his throat as he realised it was John they were smelling, not the recently departed sales rep.

'A watch was it?'

' Apparently, some posh bloke lost it. Has Roy in a right flap, thought we may as well come and check when we were passing with the key. It's always worth him owing you a favour.'

Sherlock screwed up his face in frustration at how his ploy to get in had backfired.

_Always something._

He sent a text to Lestrade, just the address and a plea for help. John had pulled out the gun and held it ready,every muscle taut.

The unwanted company in the other room chatted away as they searched for the non-existent watch.

Sherlock indicated for John to hide in the small wardrobe which the omega did with obvious reluctance. Then, quiet as possible, he pulled out a couple of drawers from the bedside table in an effort to make this look like a simple burglary. Finally he moved his feet just loud enough to be heard.

The voices stopped and he heard the slight shuffles and creaks as they moved towards the noise. Sherlock shrank behind the door as if trying to hide.

It was pulled away with force.

'What the fuck?' Sherlock was faced with two bulky, ugly, stupid alphas.

'Burglary,' Sherlock said smoothly, 'I should have thought that was obvious.'

' You must be pretty thick Raffles. Not only is there fuck all to steal but you're robbing the wrong person.'

'You swear a lot don't you? Shows a lack of vocabulary. ' Sherlock was keeping him talking. Trying to work out the way to get out of this.

The other alpha walked across the room to where both John and the ledgers were. The omega chose that moment to burst from the wardrobe but it was ever so slightly off. The alpha was close enough to push the door back in his face and the gun clattered across the wooden floor.

The alpha grabbed John. 'Oh now i know where the smell was coming from.' He licked a stripe up John's neck. Sherlock felt rage explode uncontrolled behind his eyes and lunged towards them. On some level he knew it was stupid. There was the other alpha behind him and the gun on the floor, both of which would have been better possibilities for action. He was pulled back by an arm at his throat.

John though, John was _magnificent_. He broke out of the alpha' s grasp, Sherlock didn't quite see how but it was quick. One minute John was held firm, the next his gun was back in his hand and the alpha behind him was bent double, his face a bloody mess.

'Let him go.' John said, voice firm, in command.

The alpha backed away from Sherlock, smirking. 'Funny arrangement, very Bonny and Clyde.'

'Over beside him. John gestured with the gun, breath erratic, to where the injured alpha had crumpled on the floor. The smirk continued as he moved.

'I bet he's absolutely wild isn't he. I like them with a bit of fight.' He addressed Sherlock who made to fly at him but John held out a warning hand.

'We're leaving now.' You're going to let us go.' John was dead calm the only trace of nerves a quick lick of his lips as they backed from the room. Sirens were approaching as the ran down the stairs and out the way they came in. Jogging round an alley to the side where they could watch the police approach, leaning against the wall to get their breath.

Another close call.

As a flash of blue light hit John Sherlock noticed something.

'What's that on your neck?' His stomach lurched because he already knew the synthetic scent that was invading his nose.

John ran a hand over and peeled away what appeared to be a large sticking plaster.

'Fuck.' John said holding the thing between shaking fingers.

Sherlock attempted a calculation in his fogging brain. Ten minutes maybe less, perhaps it wouldn't bring on a full heat.

'Get me out of here.' John said tightly, face blotchy and sweating already.

Sherlock led him back towards the Street, glancing down towards the two police cars parked outside the building.

'Sherlock you need to take me home. I need you to...'

John was collapsing against him and the alphas arousal was flooding his own body. Making him consider options that were totally out of character, like taking John here, against the wall.

He felt slight relief as he saw Lestrade's car draw up behind the two marked cars and drawing on all his willpower he half carried John towards the car. The omega gradually becoming more limp and pliant in his arms.

'Christ Sherlock.' Lestrade said backing away. Hand over his nose, confirming Sherlock's worst suspicions.

'Sally please take John to hospital.' Sherlock ordered , opening the back door of the car and bundling the clinging John inside with difficulty.

'but why can't you just take him home and..'

'Sally just do it.' Lestrade broke into the beta' s protest. ' We'll follow in a cab.'


	11. Chapter 11

Lestrade brought cups of foul tea from a machine along the corridor. The waiting room was all hard plastic and harsh light. The smell of disinfectant only just covering something altogether more putrid.

' I checked, the doctor is coming to see you once he's dealt with an emergency.' The alpha said, lifting his own tea and pushing the paper cup towards Sherlock.

'They couldn't get Harry then?' Sherlock said sipping. He was parched.

'No, Sally' s going to see what she can do.'

'I could have handled things better.' Sherlock said. He could see surprise on Lestrade's face before he had the chance to disguise it. In other circumstances he'd have teased him about that- admitting he had been in the wrong.

'It sounds like you both did OK. Why you didn't just let me know you were going or better still let me handle it...' Lestrade tailed off.

' If I'd let John take the lead, he had the gun, the training.' Sherlock said, gulping his cooling tea.

'You think it was an alpha thing? Trying to protect him?' Lestrade said. 'No Sherlock, that's just you two. I watch you, it's a proper partnership. I know people in the Met have worked ten years together and don't have what you have.'

'On another day another situation he'd have been have been the one trying to protect you and you'd be the one saving his arse in the end You're what's that word, two things that need each other?'

'Symbiotic.' Sherlock supplied. 'Isn't that what a good bond is supposed to be all about too?' It occurred to Sherlock that was probably still private, they'd barely talked about it properly themselves yet but Lestrade seemed unsurprised at the comment.

'When I find out I'll let you know.' Lestrade said, smiling ruefully. Sherlock realised John would be elbowing him in the ribs at his tactlessness.

The doctor approached them, Introducing himself as Dr Murphy and gesturing Sherlock into an empty room.

Sherlock could see it was days since Dr Murphy had been the right side of a proper meal or more than five hours sleep. He was a beta. Alphas and omegas ,even with the benefit of a medical education, were exotic, alien, feral even.

'I understand you're John's alpha?'

'There is no bond.' Sherlock clarified, haughty to cover his embarrassment. At what he wasn't quite sure.

'Well, he's sedated. As you know he is in a chemically induced heat. The patch he was exposed to is usually used by omega's with fertility problems. Since John has no issues in that regard his response has been rather volatile. Spiking temperature, exceptionally high levels of certain hormones...'

'I understand the chemistry doctor.' Sherlock almost snapped. The young man blushed and fumbled through the notes.

'As I say sedation is the main treatment, and keeping him as comfortable as possible in isolation. There are hormonal therapies that we can try if it lasts abnormally long but there are side effects. He's on IV fluids. Omegas in his condition they...struggle to care for themselves. He's in a lot of discomfort.'

'Meaning he's lacking a knot.' Sherlock forced himself to look the doctor in the eye, realising with disgust that he was blushing.

The young man set the notes aside and leaned forward, elbows on knees. ' It's a bit more complicated than that. There's a whole lot of chemical stuff goes on during a heat that we don't really understand properly but yes, an alpha would relive some of his symptoms. Looking at his tests though, even with a strong, established bond he'd have struggled, you'd both have struggled to keep him hydrated, steady blood sugar. '

Sherlock stared at his hands. 'We've never been together during his heat I don't know if my response was normal I ...'

'From my perspective...' The doctor shrugged, breaking in gently.'You've done the right thing, bringing him here. There's the issue of consent too, getting into that state so quickly ....' The doctor trailed off at this. There was still, of course, a section of alphas who believed an in heat omega was consenting. Simply by virtue of smelling the way they did.

'Can I see him?' Sherlock said hopefully.

The doctor smiled sympathetically. 'Even if I could let you into isolation It would only prolong things, any alpha scent. The best thing you can do is rest yourself. When he goes home he'll need a bit of looking after for a couple of days. Then there's his true heat to consider.'

For whatever reason Sherlock hadn't even thought about this. That the heat expected, tentatively looked forward to from his perspective, would still happen.

'It will likely arrive with little warning after this, best to get food, water and things sorted.' The doctor looked at him carefully. 'If you're not sure I can give you some information...'

'Thank you,I can manage.' Sherlock got up to leave. He only had the vaguest notion of what was needed, practically speaking. Though he knew John, with typical military efficiency, kept bottled water and other supplies in the flat.

'One last thing, I probably shouldn't say this Mr Holmes but you seem so unsure of yourself, it's unusual in an alpha frankly. John, he calls out for you, your connection is obviously strong. I'm sure he'll be well cared for back home.'

The doctor left him with a weary smile and he made his way back to Lestrade who squeezed his shoulder. Not asking, which Sherlock was grateful for.

It was only on the way home, in the dark privacy of the car that he told Lestrade most of what the doctor had said. The older alpha listened in silence.

'Scrambled eggs.' Lestrade said finally, as if it was the answer to a question. 'My ex, that's what I used to make her afterwards. It's just everyone talks about energy bars and whatever for during but once it's over you want something solid and you're not really in a condition to go to the shops.'

'Thanks.' Sherlock said, not really sure how to respond. 'Do you miss her?' Lestrade looked over at him and he immediately wished he'd stayed quiet but Lestrade was replying.

'Sort of, it's not so much her I miss it's the bond. That connection to someone. The feeling you're going home at night to another part of yourself. Sorry that's romantic shit.' Lestrade waved his hand dismissively.

'No it's fine.' Sherlock replied quietly, knowing they'd never be talking like this if they were eye to eye.

'These last couple of weeks with John-I know it was just for work but it reminded me a bit of when I started seeing her. How nice it was to go out dressed up for someone, make a fuss, you know.'

'Better if it's not with a known criminal probably.' Sherlock said in a weak attempt at humour.

'True. I think we just bonded too young really. I thought when I joined I'd just be a regular cop you know? Not CID, Scotland yard all this pressure. She was lonely and neither of us had the guts for a clean break.'

Sherlock remembered the recorded conversation from the party, the all too convincing resignation at John's supposed infidelity. 'Have you seen anyone else since?'

' I have a sort of arrangement with one of my neighbours for her heats but that's all it is.' Lestrade shrugged. 'Its good in its own way. No one's pretending it's something it's not.'

They fell silent. Lestrade turned off Baker Street into a lane where he could park and they headed for the door of 221, mindful of it being the early hours. Slipping in quietly so as not to disturb Mrs Hudson he'd called her earlier to let her know what had happened, bits of it at least.

'What are you doing?' Sherlock said, as Lestrade dropped a rucksack on the floor and closed the front door.

'Staying over, I've always got a few things in the car in case work runs overnight.'

'Why?' Sherlock said sharply, pulling off his coat.

'I know you too well mate. If I leave you alone I dread to think what you'll be up to. You can come with me in the morning. See if we can't work out a way to get these bastards.'

'I thought you'd be saying I'm too close, emotionally involved.' Sherlock spat the last words.

'I should and you are but I'd rather know what you're up to. Make sure you're inside the tent pissing out kind of thing.'

Sherlock shed his coat with a weary sigh, Lestrade could be stubborn when he wanted to be and Sherlock hadn't the energy to argue.

'What a charming analogy. You may as well take John's room.'

##########

By the time Greg got up a little after eight Sherlock had been up and dressed for two hours. He'd already phoned the hospital. John was sleeping his temperature apparently suggesting he was past the worst. At the nurses suggestion Sherlock left Mrs Hudson's number as someone who could sit with John once the heat was over but before he was recovered enough to come home.

'We seem to have got lucky.' Greg said sipping a cup of tea and handing his phone to Sherlock who sat in his usual chair. An e-mail from Donovan about a warrant for the furniture shop with integral brothel.

'How did you manage that?' Sherlock handed back the phone.

'We processed the workshop and a few people confirmed he smoked outside the fire escape. Anderson spotted a smear of blood on the brick, then they processed the alley too, found another tiny smear on the door you opened.'

'Careless. When do we go in?' Sherlock said, . His body shifting forward, restless for action.

'We don't. I need to try and keep this arms length, besides - you know what happened last time.'

'What about the other alphas on the team?'

' Sally' s been quietly told it needs to be betas and omegas only. There'll be a few complaints about missing a nice juicy raid but it's a safe team.'

'We just wait then?' Sherlock bounced out of his seat and paced to the window.The work always made him twitchy but normally it was pleasant anticipation. This was horrible.

'No, we go talk to Joe. I was trying to give them a bit of space but after Sally goes in tonight it's going to get a lot more difficult. There's no saying what Graeme will do when he's up against it.'

'Fine. Hopefully once we've spoken to them there'll be some more news about John.' Sherlock was already pulling his coat from the hook and heading for the door. Lestrade trailed behind getting a final mouthful of tea as he picked up his car keys.

'I was trying to think, who I know at that station that I could ask. You know without really asking.' Greg said once they were in the morning traffic.

' I spoke to someone yesterday that I used to work with who's in CID there. Made out I was being investigated for something and I was trying to get a feel for the internal affairs people.'

'And?' Sherlock said sharply with even less patience than usual for Lestrade's meandering explanations.

'They told me the best person to talk to was the desk sargeant. Ritchie she's called. She joined at the same time as one of the internal affairs lot. They're drinking buddies. Thing is I also looked into that reported brothel that Anthea heard about, who was working that sort of thing. She came on shift half an hour after the report was made. Now, her name didn't go against it on the system but there's a good chance she saw something, a printout whatever.'

'So she may be how Graeme got warned but your concern is how much sharing her friend in IA does.'

'IA, assuming they are straight, are secretive for obvious reasons. The thing is Sherlock, with them working in the same building it wouldn't even need to be conscious, just a vague remark about where you're going or anything could be enough to let Graeme know they're on to him. I certainly don't want to risk it with Joe and Richard. We're on our own.'

'I can perhaps help with that. I'm sure I can squeeze another favour out of Mycroft if I offer to help with something tedious. I'll call him after this.' They were pulling up outside a smart looking refurbishment.

'Sherlock, have you ever been around a newly bonded couple before?' Greg said warily.

'I'm sure I've been forced to go to the party for a cousin or something.' Sherlock said vaguely, tying his scarf.

'Yeah the party is usually weeks later. It's not pleasant, the scent. You'll taste it for days.'

'I'm sure I'll cope.' Sherlock was dismissive.

He'd always been fine at crime scenes. Crouching beside bloated rotten corpses while officers with twenty years experience discreetly retched on the perimeter. He realised though, as they climbed the stairs to Joe's flat he'd underestimated this.

The smell itself was appalling. To him it was like a combination of overcooked vegetables and burnt rubber. It was more than that though, it seemed to have sparked a loose anxiety that crept through his nerves, triggering his flight instinct. He supposed chemically it was actually quite remarkable. A perfect device to keep other alphas away while a bond stabilised but it took a lot of self control not to simply turn and leave. Greg at least seemed to have developed a bit of resistance to it.

'Sorry to bother you at the moment.' Greg said walking into the flat, careful to be submissive to the other alpha. The couple though we're pleasant enough. Literally wrapped in each other, they never lost contact as they sat on the sofa opposite Greg and Sherlock. Pressed together shoulder to knee, fingers entwined.

'You're with John, properly I mean. Is he ok?' Joe said. Sherlock startled at the observation till he remembered the party and the fact that heats and bonding heightened senses.

'He's in hospital. He was dosed with hormones.'Sherlock said, monitoring the young omegas response. He knew Lestrade and John seemed to trust him but he was, after all, the one who'd sent them there.

'Sherlock works with me sometimes.' Greg broke in. 'He's a detective, it's through Sherlock I know John. They went to investigate that address you gave us.'

'I should never have sent you there.' Joe shook his head, obviously genuinely upset. Sherlock saw Richard move subtly, angling his body to protect the omega.

'Richard, can you explain the ledgers?' Greg said gently. .

'I only ever see the postcodes. The men who attacked you, they're the ones who know actual names. Jim's a wholesaler these days but he still prefers old fashioned. Won't put anything on a hard drive.

'What about the omega side?' Greg continued patiently.

Richard smiled at this. 'They still use the same layout. Postcodes, money in, money out. Of course there's only three postcodes in that book.' That lot are too thick and set in their ways to get used to a better system.

An address they didn't know about. 'Do you know the postcodes? Even bits of them would help.' Greg continued, pen poised on a notebook.

Richard rhymed off the three postcodes from memory, to Joe's obvious surprise. It appeared they'd had a plan for this conversation but Richard had gone off piste.

'Sooner this gets sorted, the sooner we can get away from this stuff. It really matters now.' He said as he turned towards Joe and for a second rested a hand on the omega's belly.

A possible pregnancy. Sherlock wondered if it had been deliberate or an accident. Then, out of nowhere, he wondered how John would look pregnant, how he would feel about that. The thought was intrusive but what struck him in that moment was how little anxiety it gave him.

The thought of a heavily pregnant omega was, he knew, a common alpha fantasy but this was rather more than that. It led off into other thoughts about adapting the flat and redecorating and...

He realised everyone else in the room was waiting for a response from him. Joe with a slight smile as if he knew exactly where Sherlock's mind had been. He hurriedly tried to recall what Richard had said which had in fact been _very_ interesting.

The first two postcodes covered, as expected, the furniture shop and the nightclub. The third though, well that suggested Graeme was aiming for a very wealthy clientele. 

They took their leave of the young couple, Sherlock promising to let Joe know about John. Then they drove closer to the centre of the city. There was, predictably, nothing to see but a respectable Georgian terrace with well polished brass. The house Graeme owned was indistinguishable from its neighbours. Though Sherlock noted they were within a stones throw of the Diogenes Club.

They were heading back to Baker Street when Sherlock got a call from a happy Mrs Hudson telling him that he could take John home.

##########

John felt the fog had finally cleared when he woke to the sound of Mrs Hudson's knitting needles. She stopped and laid fingertips on his cheek relief in her smile as she pressed the call bell at his head.

'They won't let him in here dear.' She answered the question his dry throat refused to cooperate in asking. He heard the hum of ventilation units on the ceiling and understood.

The last proper memory he had was of Sally Donovan. Thrusting her warrant card in the face of an ignorant beta triage nurse who insisted he be removed. That A&E was no place for an omega in that condition.

After a forceful explanation from Sally a specialist was found, patronising but well meaning. They spoke in platitudes, _the natural wonder of your body_ , that sort of thing.

Under the heavy drag of sedation everything fragmented. He felt occasional dry cool fingers and was aware of an IV line going into his hand. He still felt every pang of longing, every ache but it was experienced as if through a viscous liquid. There was an odd lack of urgency as he sobbed pathetically, humiliated, as he called out for the alpha he'd been separated from.

He hadn't been able to understand in the grip of the hormones why, _how_ , Sherlock could bear to do anything but take him home. Nest, mate, bond.

He realised now of course that Sherlock had been, rightly, terrified at the speed and intensity of the heat. He knew that it had likely taken every ounce of willpower to send him to hospital. To not do the things, in that moment, they had both craved.

With a clearer head, John found he was brimming with affection for the detective. Feeling the strength of their connection stronger than he ever had. He wanted to go home pull Sherlock into their bed and sleep for a day surrounded by the alpha's scent.

Mrs Hudson helped him to a sip of water while they waited on the nurse. He resisted the urge to gulp, knowing his stomach was delicate. Blood pressure, pulse and temperature was taken while the landlady went to call Sherlock.

He used the bathroom and found he was more mentally alert but still physically exhausted after a shower. The doctor discharged him quickly, making the usual jokes about doctors making the worse patients.

Sherlock and Lestrade we're waiting in a relatives room outside the isolation unit. Sherlock barely spoke and, what was almost worse, barely touched him. The detective briefly squeezed his arm, brow furrowed, as John sat to let his shaky legs recover while Lestrade brought the car to the door. He also carefully supported John as he almost collapsed into the back seat but it was serious, functional, lacking affection.

They drove back to Baker street in late afternoon traffic. Mrs Hudson sat in the front, complaining about the roadworks and Lestrade talked a little about what was happening with Graeme but John barely took it in. He wanted to grab for Sherlock's hand but the size of the back seat meant the gesture would be obvious to the others.

By the time they got home John was exhausted again. He knew the combination of the forced heat and sedation would wipe him out but he was still irritated with himself when he collapsed into bed. Sherlock's bed, their bed. To his irritation the sheets were clean and all he could smell was lavender fabric softener, no trace of alpha scent, as he fell asleep.

When he woke the clock read quarter past two and the other side of the bed was cold. He got up stiffly and went through to the kitchen for a glass of water. He half expected to find Sherlock asleep on the couch. What he didn't expect was that Sherlock would have made up a bed there. The pillow, duvet and pyjamas all suggesting this had been the plan all along. The alpha stirred and stretched, his limbs absurdly long for the couch. He startled at the sight of John.

'Just up for water.' The omega said, trying not to show how rejected he felt as he poured a glass out. 'Why didn't you come to bed? I know I smell weird but it'll pass-quicker with you there actually.'John faced the sink, draining the glass after he spoke.

Sherlock stared at him for a moment before pulling himself up to sitting.

'I thought you'd want some time to yourself, away from my attentions. You seemed so...fragile I suppose. I would have brought you water.' The alpha was apologetic.

'I'm not an invalid.' John said, his body seeming to mock his stoicism as he felt himself wobble and his head begin to spin. He came to sit on Sherlock's duvet and was immediately enveloped in the scent he craved.

'Did I do the right thing, leaving you there?'

John laughed a little. 'You did. It's as well you didn't ask me at the time though. Sally will tell you, once I realised you weren't coming back for me I was calling you everything under the sun.'

'The doctor said your true heat will come on suddenly, that we should be prepared.Do you think you'll be well enough?' Sherlock's knees were now pulled in towards his chest and he looked anxious and fragile himself.

They'd talked a little about the heat and they were both looking forward to it or at least they had been. It had started to feel playful almost. John remembered the thrill of messing about at Sherlock's parents the other day and it felt like a lifetime ago. He was suddenly angrier at Graeme and his minions than his wiped out body could handle because Sherlock and him both deserved this and _how bloody dare they?_

He shuffled along the sofa, pulling a stiff Sherlock into his arms and burying his face in dark hair.

'I'll be fine. Once the drugs are cleared from my system tomorrow and I've eaten properly. Also, I need your _attentions_ as you put it.' Sherlock moved in his lap to meet his eye.

'Don't get me wrong, I'm shattered, but it'll pass all the quicker if you just come to bed with me and let the hormones do their thing.'

'I'm sorry.' Sherlock said, drawing up onto his knees to be at Johns eye level.

'Don't be, just...look Sherlock, it won't be like that. I mean even if it's sudden, well get a bit of warning. I'll feel it happening, you'll feel it happening. It'll be different from the chemicals because it's natural and also because...' John hesitated at how it sounded.

'Because it's us.' Sherlock supplied. 'Because it's not just about being overwhelmed by pheromones.' The detective turned away and John looked down into his lap.

'Yeah, something like that.' John cleared his throat and looked up. They both grinned.

'So come to bed. This'll kill your back anyway.' John made to get up but was stopped by a hand on his wrist.

'Would it be too soon for a bond? I mean there's no rush and we'd need to confirm that it would even take after what's happened.' Sherlock was rubbing a thumb gently over thin skin at his wrist. John was nowhere near well enough to be aroused and he was sure Sherlock didn't consciously mean it that way but the sensation still stirred something promisingly warm in his gut.

' Are you sure?' John sat back down.

'I'm sure. I've realised in the last few days that I think of you as my mate. The bite's just a formality as far as I'm concerned.' The alpha leaned in to tentatively scent him. John allowed himself to sink into the pile of bedding as Sherlock crawled up his body, pulling aside his robe, gently scenting him everywhere.

'I asked.' John smiled sheepishly, keeping his eyes closed to better appreciate the alpha's touch. 'At the hospital, I checked, no reason a bond wouldn't take.' Sherlock stopped and John opened his eyes.

'I'm glad. My mother will be thrilled.' Sherlock raised a sardonic eyebrow and made to resume the scenting but somehow fell off the couch into an undignified heap.

John, still sprawled on his back, laughed.

' Seriously-bed. I need you in one piece.'


	12. Chapter 12

_The bite: a guide for alphas_

_When an omega is ready to be bitten they will present their neck , an open gesture that is unmistakable. There is no getting round the fact that the bite will hurt but with care this can be minimised. It's easier said than done but try not to hesitate when you bite. Remember, your saliva contains local anaesthetic and antiseptic agents during rut…_

_Many omegas will go limp after a bond bite. This can be disconcerting but it's natural, talk to them soothingly and support their weight…._

  
Sherlock skim read the page. It was the fourth or fifth he'd looked at and he was painfully aware that most alphas, if they had looked at this sort of stuff at all, did so as teenagers. He certainly felt like one.

  
When they had finally gone to bed the previous night they’d been exhausted, John clinging limpet like to his side as if he feared being abandoned.

  
Sherlock had woke with a startle in the morning to the sounds of the stirring city. John’s scent had changed as predicted. To something deep and rich which Sherlock’s body responded to. For a panicky few minutes he’d been sure the heat was starting then he’d realised that his mate (as he now thought of John) would be awake and distressed if that were the case. This was simply John reverting to how he used to smell, the chemicals finally gone from his system.

  
John was now sitting on the sofa beside Mrs Hudson who had taken it upon herself to keep them both company. The landlady was absorbed in a jaffa cake and some daytime TV abomination, antiques by the look of it. John was looking at him carefully.

  
‘A bit of research.’ He said, snapping the laptop shut. John nodded and he had the suspicion that John had a fair idea what he’d been looking at.

  
The day passed slowly in a sort of suffocating tedium. Brutally boring normally but he was somehow anxiously eager to please. He found himself making tea, running a bath, playing the violin for John. He knew on some level this was some sort of courtship, trying to persuade John he was worthy of a bond. He tried to relax, let in play out.

  
He’d deliberately left his phone in the kitchen, out of reach. He was expecting some report about the executed warrant, the raid on the brothel, from Lestrade and every so often there was the tantalising ping of a new message. Even with John and the approaching heat it was frustrating to be in the flat when the game was so decidedly on.

  
A couple of hours later they’d been left alone Mrs Hudson having gone to the supermarket to buy what she needed for lemon shortbread, John’s favourite. Sherlock was tinkering with the strings on his violin while John read.

  
‘You should go.’ John said simply, glancing up from his novel.

  
‘Go where?’ Sherlock shot back, already knowing what he meant.

  
‘John gestured with his head towards the kitchen.’ What is that, eight messages now?’

  
‘Seven.’ Sherlock said sheepishly.

  
‘Well then, why don’t you go and help. This is what you - it’s what we do.’

  
‘If anything starts…’ Sherlock said doubtfully.

  
‘You’ll drop everything come straight back as quick as you can and I’ll be waiting.’ John held his gaze as he crossed the room to slide arms round his waist. ‘I’d come with you but I still feel a bit weird.’ John said muffled against his chest.

  
Some primal part of him was appalled at the idea of John coming with him into potential danger, wanted to forbid it.

  
‘I’ve been thinking over the last couple of days,’ John said, head resting on his collarbone. ‘This is all so quick. Are you sure it’s not too quick for you?’ John risked a look at him, hard question now asked.

  
‘I’ve known for what feels like a long time that I wanted you here somehow. I obviously didn’t know I wanted you like this, I scarcely knew how to want you like this. I know you’re probably looking for something more dramatic, a grand gesture…’ John cut him off.

  
‘Sherlock, if there is one thing we’ve had too much of it’s drama. Enough bloody drama - yes?’ John looked at him fiercely, squeezing his ribs then retrieved the phone, pressing it hard into his hand.

  
##########

  
He read the messages as he shrugged into his coat, immediately changing back out of it, out of all his clothes once he had. He casually redressed in denim and a slim grey coat.

  
Lestrade was holding two alphas at a police station far enough out of town that it was only just covered by the Met. Clients, the staff had got away somehow. Paranoid about who he could trust. A low profile seemed sensible and his usual garb was getting a little too well known these days.

  
When he arrived at the police station, via a maddeningly slow suburban rail line, Lestrade was outside leaning on a tub filled with yellow pansies. Staring into space, gasping for a cigarette.

  
‘How is he?’ Lestrade asked.

  
‘Better, I don’t think it’ll be long now.’ Sherlock said, brow furrowing.  
‘Too long?...Oh, right. Well better get on with it then.’ Lestrade looked embarrassed. 

  
‘Look Sherlock I can’t let you talk to them directly, they’re not strictly speaking in my custody, I’m calling in favours keeping them here. If you could have a look at the property, at them give us something to work with, neither of them are talking.’

  
‘Youve been questioning them all this time?’ Sherlock asked, gears shifting in his head as tried to move into work mode.

  
‘No, if you arrest an alpha you believe to be in rut you have to wait six clear hours for it to subside. Sally’s been talking to them for the last hour but nothing. Truth is they know that unless the omegas say something we’ll struggle to do them for anythjng. Lestrade opened the door for him and swiped them into the back office with his pass.

  
‘Where are the omegas?’ Sherlock asked.

  
‘They're in the same … they're in hospital. It’ll be a couple of days before we can talk to them but we don’t have that sort of time. We’re hoping we get a few hours head start on Graeme even realising something is wrong,’ Lestrade opened a door and they were on the opposite side of a two way mirror looking into an interview room. Property bags were piled on a table beside them, an anxious beta hovering by the door.

  
‘Thanks for this Craig, quickest way to get us out of here.’ Lestrade said with a placating smile.

  
Sherlock looked through the glass at the alpha. He was wearing a disposable suit his leg jogging with agitation. He looked remarkably ordinary if terrified. Sherlock moved to the property on the table.

  
‘Keep the bags closed please.’ Craig said sharply. Sherlock wanted to make some cutting reply but was stopped by a warning glance from Lestrade.

  
There was very little really, just what the alpha had been wearing when he came to the brothel, a bond ring, a watch and a wallet.

  
‘There were no other clothes that could have been his?’

  
‘Not that we could tell. He was, well, Sally had to wait for them to finish, put it like that.’ Lestrade replied. ‘What are you thinking?’

  
‘He’s bonded into money, a business I think but not happily. The watch is older, cheaper, sentimental perhaps. Probably belonged to a relation who did manual work given the dents. They weren't caused while he was wearing it, his hands are unblemished, soft. Everything else, clothes and so on, is new.’

  
‘If the bond was happy he wouldn't be there.’ Lestrade said softly.

  
‘It’s more than that. He’s got no change of clothes. He _wants_ to go home smelling of another omegas heat.If he’s a regular, if he’s done this before he might know something. If you taunt him a little about his father-in-law's money he might give something away in anger.’

  
‘We try to avoid taunting suspects Sherlock - but thanks.’

  
‘If you say so. Can I see the other?’ The prisoners were swapped over and another lot of property brought in.

  
Sherlock flipped through the property bags under Craig’s watchful eye smiling a little.

  
‘You say you found no staff, well you have now.’

  
‘He was with one of omegas she was sitting in his lap…’

  
‘They were having intercourse?’ Sherlock broke in.

  
‘Sampling the merchandise was he?’ Craig said smirking.

  
‘No, he was dressed, they were both dressed.’ Lestrade said, looking at some notes.

  
‘She’s not merchandise not to him, he was standing guard over her until she was able to use this he waved a train ticket. ‘It’s an open ticket, Durham. He probably has family in that area.’

  
‘It’s where he’s from I think,his accent.’ Craig broke in.

  
‘I can’t imagine it’s the healthiest of relationships, given his line of work. The train ticket isn't his, not when he has this’ Sherlock waved a fancy looking car key. ‘A driver's car, he never uses the train.Then there are the receipts, small amounts, food and so on. He has a budget to run the place. If he can afford that car he’s not micromanaging his grocery budget.

  
‘So he’s bound to know something.’

  
‘Yes, and he’s probably also disaffected with the whole business if he’s developed - an attachment.’

  
‘I suppose I’ll go in and have a go then.’ Lestrade sighed, rubbing his neck.

  
‘I don’t suppose I could borrow a cigarette before you do?’ Sherlock said, hoping Lestrade would catch on. They had both been on the patches for months.

  
‘Yeah, actually, I’m out but we could wander to the newsagents..’

  
The beta fussed with the evidence bags as they walked out. Waiting to get well clear of the front door before they spoke.  
They crossed the road into a park.

  
‘Do you trust Sally?’ Sherlock said, serious.

  
‘Of course! I know you don't get on but…’

  
‘Spare me that for the moment.’ Sherlock waved an impatient hand. ‘I assume she’ll want to help?’

  
‘Yeah, well, she is so..?’ Greg stopped, leaning against the wrought iron fence.

  
‘You need to persuade them that you're panicking. Both the internal affairs people and Graeme.’ Sherlock said finally. ‘You tell them both that your team is up to something. With Graeme you say you think they suspect you of being corrupt. With the internal affairs people you say you're beginning to wonder if Graeme has someone in your team. You add in the detail that you have information about some patrons of the fancy brothel, the one near my brothers club.’

  
‘That all sounds a bit nuts Sherlock, frankly.’ Greg looked doubtful and Sherlock could all but read his thoughts.

_  
Too distracted by his mate-to-be._

  
‘It's supposed to. It'll make it look,to both sides, like you're losing it. It will set hares running. I know you think my mind's full of John and I won't argue but at this stage it feels like we need to force something. With Joe spirited away, now this he may already be on the back foot.’

  
‘It doesn't sound very, well, safe. I Wish I had bought the bloody fags now.’

  
‘Me too but we're doing so well.’Sherlock patted the patch on his arm, smiling.

  
‘Either way I'll be pissing off a gangster.’

  
‘Yes, on that from I rather hoped you'd accept the help of the British government.’

  
‘Mycroft?’ Lestrade didn't look keen.

  
‘I know, but it's not all one way. If there are some well-known faces in there it will be of interest to him too.

  
They found a quiet corner and made their calls. Sherlock coaching Lestrade through his calls to both Graeme and internal affairs. He didn't have to fake the required edginess. Then he called his brother.

  
Joe and Richard were settling into a cottage in Northumberland. As for Lestrade Mycroft promised to ‘put some people’ on him. Sherlock could all but hear his brothers eyes narrow as he described the brothel. Doubtless by the time they walked back to the police station Anthea would already have started subtle enquiries.

  
‘So now we wait.’ Greg said as they started back towards the station .

  
‘You wait at least. Let Sally do the interviews. Stay removed, your cover might be gone but it scarcely matters at this stage as long as they are spooked to enough to get hasty. Is there anything else I can look at?’ Sherlock had came to this case late. He'd seen what John had been given by Greg when they'd first pretended to be a couple but it was only a condensed version.

  
‘Some copies of his financials are at my flat. Don't know why I've got them really. Can't make anything of them.’

  
‘We can pick them up. Mycroft's lot should be in place when we get there.’

  
‘Sherlock, not to put you off but the financial experts have crawled through them, several times.’

  
‘Maybe fresh eyes will help.’

  
Lestrade laughed. ‘When John goes into heat you'll have better things to do.’

  
‘He'll sleep.’ Sherlock shot back.

  
‘So will you. It's knackering, in a good way but still.’

  
‘When you..’ Sherlock started aware, to his irritation, that he was blushing. ‘When you bite, how do you know you're doing it correctly? I mean-so you're not hurting them more than necessary?’ His face burned, he had no one else to ask. His father was too far away and the awkwardness of that was too hideous to contemplate anyway.

  
Lestrade patted him on the shoulder awkwardly. ‘Honestly you don't. You've just got to trust to instinct.’ Lestrade chewed his lip, obviously looking for something more positive, useful to say. ‘There's less blood than you'd think, I can say that. Also, in the moment, you can see it's what they want.’

  
Sherlock nodded slowly.

  
‘You'll be fine. I can't see John.being the sort to just lie there anyway. I think you'll be given direction.  
  
_I_ _can be quite demanding…_

  
‘I better talk to Sally. We can justify her interviewing them easy enough, another alpha could antagonise them.’

  
Sherlock waited outside for Lestrade to settle things with Sally. Mycroft had texted.

  
_Please call mother. Tell her something, ANYTHING about John. At least that way she might leave me alone. MH_

  
Sherlock smiled. He'd call her later, actually he might see if John would.

  
Lestrade came back out quickly and they took the train and tube back to his flat. As discussed a van, plumbers, was parked discreetly across the road. There would be a regular changing of the guard Sherlock knew. A cab that idled for an hour before driving off perhaps, an apparent dog walker checking the perimeter of the building.

  
The scruffy box containing the Graeme evidence was sitting, pride of place, on Lestrade’s coffee table. Sherlock lifted the lid. It looked tedious but it would be just the sort of thing to keep him occupied till Graeme made a move - or John's heat started.

  
##########

  
By late afternoon John was bored. His heat, he decided, was not happening any time soon.

  
He occupied himself tidying the flat, walking to the supermarket. He phoned the surgery and signed up for some shifts, on the understanding that they might need cover if his heat came on.

  
By the time Sherlock came back with a box full of papers he was deciding on dinner and cursing that he'd bought neither cereal or bread for the following day's breakfast. Sherlock immediately upended the box on the living room floor, documents sliding in all directions.

  
‘There must be something here John. Graeme must have made some mistake.’ Sherlock said, beginning to sift.

  
‘Dinner first, before you get into this lot. I'm starving. How did it go?’

  
Sherlock filled him in on what he had missed and John let him get to the part where Greg had called Graeme before he broke in sharply.

  
‘He's got no back up Sherlock, not really only Sally and …’

  
‘The British Government.’ Sherlock replied calmly.

  
‘Your brother?’

  
‘Of course. A high end brothel? Doubtless a few well known faces he needs brought down a peg.’

  
‘It's not a bloody _game_ Sherlock.’ John said, stony faced. He knew the alpha was well intentioned but sometimes he got lost in the intricacies of the problem, forgot the people.

  
‘It's not that I don't take it seriously John, Mycroft does too. What they did to you-’ Sherlock's usual smooth professionalism fell away for a moment. Replaced with anger and perhaps a little shame.

  
John had thought about it too. He was under no illusions about what would have happened if things had just gone slightly differently that night.

  
‘We should have dinner.’ He said finally, practical. ‘I've got some stuff for pasta you can start to this after.’

  
They chopped and cooked together and talked of other things. Mainly practical stuff for John's heat. Keeping phones on, not straying too far. As they ate John wrote a shopping list. More bottled water, granola bars, laundry soap and, to Sherlock's alarm,first aid supplies from the pharmacy. John explained to the panicky looking alpha that bond bite problems were very rare but could be serious, they should be prepared. After that Sherlock went back to the pile of papers. Within minutes he was lost it his mind palace.

  
John had always loved to watch him work, especially once he realised, quite early on in their acquaintance, that Sherlock had no idea he was even there, so complete was his focus on what was in front of him.

  
John made tea for them both. He was just placing a cup at Sherlock's elbow, that he knew would likely be left to go cold, when he heard two female voices. Mrs Hudson and _Harry_ of all people coming up to the flat. He could hear Mrs Hudson bubbling with enthusiasm about her ‘boys’.

  
He hurried out the flat door to meet them. His sister looked amused.

  
‘Harry, didn't know you were coming.’ He pecked his sister on the cheek.

  
‘Obviously.’ She shot back. ‘Do I get to meet him then? This not so mysterious alpha of yours?’

  
‘He's working Harry. Can we go to the ...coffee shop in the next street? Catch up?’

  
He'd only just stopped himself saying pub and she obviously knew it.

  
‘Fine. You can buy me something sweet for the shock I think.’ John went back in and grabbed his keys,wallet and phone. Kissing Sherlock’s all but unresponsive forehead as he left.

  
They spent the walk planning for the following day when they'd both be free. National gallery and a boat trip to Greenwich they decided. Harry was in town for an interview, last minute, hence the just turning up.

  
She hadn't been joking about sugary and she was stirring a hot chocolate with the works when she finally started asking questions.

  
‘I don't know why you didn't just tell me, when you stayed. It's not like I was going to come up here and punch him or anything.’

  
John fiddled with a teaspoon. ‘One, you might have hit him.’ She had floored an alpha at his medical school graduation, back when she was drinking. ‘...and two...well I was trying to keep it to myself because...Harry this is sort of it, you know? I'm due and we're planning to bond.’  
  
‘Harry’s eyes were wet when he looked at her. ‘That's sickeningly nice. You deserve something nice after everything.’ From his hard as nails sister this was verging on uncomfortably sentimental.

  
‘Do you want to come back and meet him then?’ John said, not sure it was a good idea, not with Sherlock in the middle of something, but he may as well get it over with. Also, he sort of wanted to show his alpha off.

  
Harry agreed, enthusiastically, and they headed back to the flat.

  
Sherlock was staring at the wall when they walked in, it looked as if it had been re-papered with bank statements, receipts. He gruffly acknowledged John but obviously didn't realise he wasn't alone.

  
‘Sherlock, this is my sister, Harry.’ John said hesitant. The detective spun round and John literally gritted his teeth, waiting on the deluge of deductions.

  
Sherlock stood for a moment, considering perhaps, before he held out his hand. ‘Sherlock Holmes, nice to meet you. Would you care for tea? Our landlady has left us with enough shortbread to feed a battleship.’

  
John was taken aback. He’d seen Sherlock turn on the foppish public school charm before but only ever in pursuit of a case.

  
‘Actually Sherlock we just..’

  
‘That would be lovely.’ His sister cut him off with a mischievous smile and Sherlock stepped into the kitchen, John followed.

  
‘You're being nice.’ He hissed into Sherlock’s ear as the alpha filled the kettle.

  
‘She’s your sister.’

  
‘Yeah but you -the politeness and the _nice_. Thanks though.’ He said, awkwardly hugging Sherlock’s waist before going back out to Harry.

  
‘What’s all this then? She said conversationally, sweeping her hand round the room at the paper on the wall, floor,everywhere.

  
‘Work, it’s complicated.’ Sherlock said, this slightest sharpness in his tone as he gingerly set down a tray in the only clear spot on the coffee table. ‘It’s for Scotland Yard. Financial records, I’m looking for irregularities.

  
‘They all look pretty regular to me.’ Harry said. ‘Although, this is funny.’ She picked up a bundle of invoices. ‘Two years ago, whole lot of work done re-roofing a place in the December, big job.’

  
‘And?’ Sherlock prodded, definitely at the end of his patience now.

  
‘Well they’d have been hard pushed. That was the really bad winter. Nothing moved for weeks at the beginning of the month, then of the course the building trade takes a full two weeks at Christmas, sometimes more.’

  
John remembered. He recalled watching the surreal images of snow covered motorways in a tinsel decorated mess tent while he’d been deployed. He also knew, though he didn't mention it, why it stuck in Harry’s mind.

  
It had been the first proper go she’d had at staying sober. The snow had helped in a funny way, keeping her away from temptation. She’d lasted into the new year but fell off the wagon again, spectacularly, in early February. Clara had stayed on the phone with him for an hour that day.

  
Sherlock had taken on a still look. Delicately lifting the invoice and scanning it.

  
‘Could just be billed to the wrong month.’ Harry shrugged, breaking a piece of shortbread. John though knew the look, Sherlock had something.

  
‘A Ritchie, Director.’ Sherlock said, tapping the paper. ‘We know a Ritchie from elsewhere don’t we John.’

  
‘Common enough name.’ John said, not wanting to get his hopes up. ‘Worth a call to Lestrade though.’

  
‘Certainly. THe other invoices from the firm are meticulous, perhaps a little too meticulous.’ Sherlock was starting to get that bright energetic look. The one John loved. ‘Call him now.’

  
‘John’s phone was already in his hand, scrolling through his contacts. Lestrade didn't answer and they had ten minutes of normal, civilised ‘meet the family’ conversation before John tried again. Still no answer.

  
‘What on earth can he be doing?’ Sherlock hissed.

  
‘Any number of things Sherlock he's not on call for you - showering, sleeping, having sex?’ John said, his sister collapsing into fits of giggles as if she was fifteen again.

  
‘Please.’ Sherlock responded, rolling his eyes.

  
‘Thats harsh. He’s an attractive alpha.’  
John shot back. Sherlock looked surprised for a second and John realised they may be too early in their relationship to start teasing about fancying other people.

  
‘Anyway keep trying. Even that won't take so long at his age.’ Sherlock recovered himself.

  
John did but still nothing. Sherlock went off to call Mycroft, see if the 'people' he had watching Lestrade could shed any light.

  
He came back after a couple of minutes looking pale.

  
‘He went into a supermarket forty minutes ago and hasn't come out.’ Sherlock said gravely.

  
‘So? He's doing a big shop?’ John said, confused.

  
‘He's a single man who lives out of his microwave. He doesn't do a _big_ _shop_. Something's wrong. They're going to call me back.’

  
Realisation crawled over John's skin. ‘Should I call Sally?’

  
‘Probably…’ Sherlock was interrupted by his own phone. His expression grim as he listened. Harry was sitting, awkwardly fidgeting with her cup, obviously wondering whether she should stay or go.

  
Sherlock ended the call, distressed alpha scent coming off him in waves.

  
‘They have the CCTV. He was approached by a member of the shop staff and then he disappeared. A few minutes later a van no one can account for pulls up at a loading bay for a few minutes. He was probably known in the shop, it was the one closest to his flat. They maybe asked for his help with a shoplifter. They’ll have the footage sent to the yard but…’

  
‘They don't know where hes been taken.’ John finished.

  
‘They apparently headed through the residential streets. Nice area but old enough not to have much in the way of cameras. They could have changed cars there. They can put these things back together of course but it takes time. I need to go to the Yard.’

  
‘I'm coming too.’ Sherlock turned towards him as if to argue but John looked back at him hard, resolute.

  
‘Fine.’ The detective said with obvious reluctance. John went upstairs on the pretext of getting a coat but really to shove the gun into his waistband.

  
##########

  
They were signed in at the yard by a young omega constable, her uniform sat uncomfortably on her and she was nervous, eager to please. John smiled reassuringly, trying to offset Sherlock's usual disdain. _He's not like that really._ John found he wanted to tell her, to tell random strangers.

  
The floor Lestrade’s team worked on was already chaos. Someone senior, with a lot of braid on his hat was addressing a team that was putting on body armour. Sally stood at the edge of the group and looked, for the first time John could remember, pleased to see them. She gestured them into a conference room.

  
‘They've decided to go in heavy to a warehouse, a supplier of Graeme owns it. Someone's hunch.' She said, disgusted.

  
‘You think they're wrong?’ John said.

  
‘Don’t you? I know they've got to try something but if I were Graeme I’d take him somewhere well off the beaten track. How many half derelict places full of smack heads do you think he knows about?' She chewed her lip.

  
‘We did find this.’ Sherlock said sliding the invoice across the table towards her. ‘We have reason to believe the work is suspect and there’s the name, Ritchie. Did Lestrade tell you about her?’ Lestrade hadn't so Sherlock briefly explained.

  
‘She’s out there.’ Sally said, peering discreetly through the glass. ‘They asked for volunteers to come in.’ Sherlock moved to stand beside her. ‘Third in from the lift dark hair.’

  
Sherlock looked, she was unassuming, diligently listening as the senior officer spoke but then he supposed corrupt police wouldn't realistically last very long unless they kept their head down.

  
‘Can you keep an eye on her out there, see if she calls anyone, does anything?’ Sherlock said, he was trying to be polite, calm, not to appear as if he was giving Donovan orders. She looked at him hard for a few beats.

  
‘Fine. You think there's a family connection or what? This sort of stuff usually comes up when they vet you when you join the police.’

  
‘I don’t know.’ Sherlock said shrugging, I've only just.. I need time.’

  
‘Well, we don't have it. Look, I have to go but if you need anything looked up or whatever ask Lucy that brought you in.’ She nodded towards the nervous young uniformed omega. ‘I won’t pretend I’m happy about it but I’m not too proud to admit you're probably his best chance at the moment.’ Sally left them in the room ,quietly joining the group of officers as they filed towards the lift.

  
The office was then virtually empty. Lucy diligently looked things up on databases as requested while Sherlock sifted through crime reports, witness statements.

  
John could see Sherlock's patience, never his best quality, was fraying a little more with each minute they didn't find something.

  
‘We’re missing something!’ Sherlock barked as he paced, prowled the floor. The usual frustrations around an intractable case made worse by this being their friend.

  
‘Maybe we’re on the wrong track somehow.’ John said,trying to be his usual calm self. He glanced at Lucy who sat at the computer, awaiting instructions. Her hands were shaking, she was looking at the desk, blinking rapidly, all but in tears. John felt some protective instinct bubble up.

  
He knew this bluster was just part of Sherlock's process. Frankly, when the situation was less dire, less personal he found it hot. Lucy though was getting bombarded with scent from an agitated alpha she didn't know. Trying to fight her natural instinct to run away. She'd need to toughen up in this job, John knew, but there was no reason that they should be causing her to feel this way. 0

  
‘I'm going to make tea.’ John said, getting up. ‘Sherlock, come and help. What do you take Lucy?’

  
‘Just milk thanks.’ Lucy smiled at him gratefully.

  
‘Help with tea? _Now_?’ Sherlock looked furious.

  
‘Yes now.’ John put on his look that entertained no argument and gestured to the kitchen at the end of the room. Sherlock followed reluctantly.

  
‘You need to tone it down Sherlock.’ John said, searching the cupboards for mugs.

  
‘I'm working.’ The alpha shot back. ‘Or at least I'm trying to.’

  
John spun round to face him. ‘You're scaring her Sherlock, she just doing her job, more than her job actually. She could get in trouble for helping us. It's not easy.’

  
‘What isn't?’ Sherlock said, half heartedly helping by getting milk out.

  
‘Being constantly worn down by alphas being arseholes.Using your biology against you.’

  
‘I didn't mean…’ Sherlock sounded genuinely appalled. He had doubtless been oblivious to the effect he was having. He had, after all, been suppressed until a few weeks ago.

  
‘I know you didn't but just think alright? It's bad enough being judged all the time for what's between your legs not what's between your ears…’

  
‘John.’ Sherlock's tone halted his little speech. ‘That's it. That's what we've been doing. Melissa Graeme.’ They stood and stared at each other for a second then Sherlock was striding back towards where Lucy was sitting. The public school charm turned on again. His smile almost genuine. 

  
‘I'm sorry if I behaved badly just now. Lestrade he's our friend you see.' The omega nodded, she seemed to appreciate the gesture. 'It would be really helpful if you could show us anything and everything you have on _Melissa_ Graeme.’ 


	13. Chapter 13

It wasn't long before Sally Donovan rejoined them, tossing down her body armour in disgust. Only illegally imported tobacco in the warehouse.

She absently picked at the packet of digestives they'd been eating and John went to make her tea without thinking.

‘You Ok?’ She said as she accepted the cup.

‘Just tired.’ He smiled with his reply, knowing how he must look. He'd not felt this knackered since combat. He’d thought the stuff was out of his system but apparently not quite. Sherlock looked at him thoughtfully and John stared back with a look that dared the alpha to suggest John went home.

They'd made progress though. Ritchie and Melissa had been at school together, their friendship confirmed by a call to a long retired head of year. The building firm was Ritchie's father's. A few records from a harried council official confirmed that there had been no new roof on the building, nothing structural. Only an internal refit.

‘None of this helps us find Greg though.’ Sally said grimly.

‘I assume your lot have been to everything they own themselves, checked there?’ John said, walking about a bit to try and wake up.

‘Yeah, nothing. They're too smart for that. We know where they are, Jim and Melissa. Birthday party, someone they know from years back. Haven't moved all evening apparently.’ Sally suppressed a yawn herself.

‘I don't quite see them using some derelict place.’ Sherlock said, leaning his head against the back of his chair. ‘With some minor business rival possibly, they can delegate that, be hands off -but Greg? Especially if they realise he was involved in getting Joe away, that's personal. With their profile they can hardly be seen going into some smack den.’

‘Unless they plan to buy it.’ John joked weakly.

Sherlock looked up sharply. ‘Do we have a list of places they used to own, have sold on recently?’

‘Places they know are empty.’ Sally caught on. ‘We can get one-Lucy?’ Sally was on her feet. Coming to stand behind the young omegas computer. Directing her to particular files.

‘There'll be something stands out about it.’ Sherlock said. ‘I’ll know it when I see it.’

Sally went off to phone to her superiors while they looked through the list.

‘There. They've held that place for longest- their first. Why? It's a typical terraced house, there must be a reason.’ Sherlock mused.

‘According to this it was Melissa’s mothers council house.’ Lucy said. Maybe they'll, I don't know, go there after the party if that's where the DI is.’ Sally had came to stand behind her again. They were all now crowded around the screen. ‘It's a few miles away.’ Lucy was now looking at online directions.

‘No.’ Sally and Sherlock stared at each other as they spoke more or less at once.

‘How do _you_ know?’ Sherlock said, not used to anyone being as quick as him.

‘First place I worked as a cop-grew up there.’

‘What do you both mean?’ John said, confused, tired, irritated.

Sally indicated the screen. ‘This whole area used to be pretty rough. Nice enough when I was growing up but then the factory closed down. Whole area went downhill, by the time I joined the force it was a no go area. The street they had the house on,  it's been- what's the word -gentrified. Probably why they've finally let it go they'll have made a good few quid. Round the road, it's ten minutes in a car between there and where the party is but if you walk through here,’ She indicated a greenish yellow area with grey splotches of old concrete on the satellite street view. ‘Five minutes on foot. It's the derelict factory site, all grown up with vegetation now. Only locals would think of the cut through.’

John looked at the satellite picture. ‘The house backs right onto it.’

‘They could be coming and going all night-fuck’ Sally swore, gathering up her body armour again and fiddling with her phone. ‘Be ready in five minutes.'

##########

They were back on a building site again, Sherlock realised. It was only really a few short weeks since he'd broke his ankle. He wondered now if, without that, him and John would ever have happened. He pushed the thought aside.

The entire terrace was being refurbished.The sooty brick spruced up and the tired interiors modernised.

The armed police officers were standing in front of him, they had quickly established that  something was going on in the house. Something fiddly had now been done with a drill and a miniature camera and they could see a blurry, odd angle of the living room.

As a show home it was furnished and Lestrade was sitting on a rather lurid lime green sofa. A glass of wine in front of him. Melissa sat alongside just as if they were at the party, the one Jim still seemed to be attending on the other side of the waste ground.

‘Sound?’ He said to the closest officer who looked to a superior for assent before replying.

‘Sorry this is the best we can do.’

‘If ever there was a time for your party piece it's now.’ Sally looked at him expectantly as did John beside her. There was little to go on.

‘He didn't struggle, he's in a black suit but it's clean, hardly creased. The bruise on his face is for something he said. _Oh_.’

‘What?’ Sally said impatient.

‘Something he said to Melissa. You see the way she's holding her hand, her broken thumbnail? She hit him, he got to her. I _really_ wish we had sound.’

‘Is she alone, that's what we really need to know.’ The firearms officer broke in, impatient.

‘No, the way she's sitting the way she glances round there's someone behind her.’

‘That makes sense. The officer showed Sally a plan. ‘Covering the door.’ The armed officers beckoned Sally away and there were various murmurings between them that Sherlock couldn't hear.

‘They're going in. Not just here, his other two places. They'll pick him up too.' Sally Looked pleased , relieved as she came back. ‘Apparently one of the omegas from the other day is talking. Dimmock’s managed a warrant for the nightclub on the strength of it. Some problem with the other posh place though, sounds like an admin thing.’

‘I may be able to help him with that.’ I'm texting him a number, he should mention my name.’ Sherlock said, rapidly tapping his phone. Mycroft, he knew, would help with this. ‘Give him some time.’

There was twenty minutes of nothing happening except closely watching the feed from the camera. The conversation between Lestrade and Melissa looked intense.

‘Wonder why it's just her in there. I assume he's glad handing people at the party across the way. Manufacturing himself an alibi.’ Sally said, anxiously watching the screen.

‘I think we'll find once all is done this was far more her show than we knew.’ Sherlock said. Sally frowned, doubtful. He could understand why. For probably half her career the alpha gangster had been a shadowy figure at the back of all sorts of things. Not least police corruption.

‘It's this house. It's personal. She didn't exactly want to be caught but if she was she was going to make damn sure you knew who you were catching. Wouldn't surprise me if she hasn't been doing your job for you, collating incriminating evidence on her bond mate.’

Just then Sally's phone pinged. ‘Dimmock has a warrant signed. Does your brother have a judge chained in his bathroom or something?’

‘Or something.’ Sherlock said with an air of mystery. Truth be told he had no idea how these things were managed - he was sure it was dull.

‘I suppose we're sitting this one out?’ John was eager.

‘ Yes definitely. We've all worked too bloody hard on this one for them to walk on a technicality.’ Sally was firm but almost apologetic.

Sherlock and John moved out of the way, backing against a wall as the police went through final checks and lined up to move in. As they watched the police go in on the blurry camera feed Sherlock found that they were holding hands though he didn't know how it had happened.

##########

Back at Scotland Yard the pace changed significantly and John could all but taste Sherlock's irritation with the dry admin of statements on one hand and the tedious procedure of questioning the Graeme's on the other. He stayed though, for another case he'd likely have been long gone. John found himself incredibly proud of himself and Sherlock when two senior officers came over and thanked them. Very much unofficially - but still.

Greg came to sit with them after he'd been checked over by the police doctor and had given his own statement. The blooming bruise on his jaw the only sign of his ordeal.

‘What did you say to her, to earn that?’ Sherlock gestured at Lestrade’s face.

He laughed wearily. ‘She, erm, kind of propositioned me at one point. I told her I didn't want Jim’s cast offs. It's like you said, they panicked a bit.’

‘Threats and promises.’ Sherlock said.

‘Sort of , made very clear to me that there was lots of money and herself on offer if I could help her out. We never quite got to what exactly with but what you said to Sally was right. She's got all sorts on Jim, so she says, enough to put him away for years.’

‘So what,she gets him thrown in prison and then takes over the drugs the brothels?’ John said.

‘That's the funny thing. She hates the brothels, from a business point of view. Ranted on about how he'd ruined everything, that they were almost clean.’

‘A likely story.’ John said with a weary eyebrow raise.

‘To be honest I think there might be something in it. The last couple of years there's been far less chatter about him, until the stories about the omegas more recently. We thought he was just getting more careful with age but maybe…’

‘She had a plan to make everything legitimate and he goes off course with a new venture.’ Sherlock said thoughtfully. ‘He had to go.’

Lestrade nodded. ‘I've been looking at this, his convictions.’ He waved a crumpled sheet.

‘I thought he hardly had any?’ John said. Remembering the stuff he'd read through when Greg initially asked him to pose as his fiancé.

‘He doesn't but what he does have predates his bond, by a good couple of years. In those days he was a street dealer, profitable, ruthless but not exactly big time. Within a year of his bond. You start seeing the the bigger deals, the smart moves.’

‘She’ll serve time though, for kidnapping you at least?’ John asked incredulous.

‘She should but honestly there's not much else on her. I keep thinking, if we'd been looking in the right places, maybe we'd have got them both sooner.’ Greg sat back wearily in the chair.

‘Go home Greg.’ John said, realising this was the second time he'd said that to Greg recently and the alpha had looked like he didn't really want to go. John also realised in a flash of inspiration why Melissa had picked the alpha out, it wasn't that he was skint or due to retire, it's that he was lonely.

‘Look, why don't you come out with us tomorrow night? We could all do with a break?’ He asked the policeman gently.

‘Where are we going?’ Sherlock broke in, surprised.

‘You know where. Victors show.’ Sherlock's blank look suggested it had totally slipped his mind.

‘Yes, you should come, free wine I believe.’ Sherlock said. Receiving an elbow in the ribs.

‘He means he'd love for you to join us Greg.’

#########

John knew nothing about art at all.He suspected Sherlock didn't allow room in his head for it either but at least his alpha looked the part, all floppy curls. 

They got a drink and found a space among the crowd in the gallery. Making small talk amongst themselves. John had delayed the plan to spend the day doing touristy stuff with Harry after last nights drama but they'd still managed the National Gallery in the afternoon.

He was just telling Greg about how well his sister was doing when the inspector’s phone went. Greg excused himself to take the call and Sherlock, obviously hoping for something interesting, followed him.

_Married to his work._

John wouldn't have it any other way.

He was about to follow, as usual, when someone across the room caught his eye. Victor.

The artist smiled at him. John realised that he now couldn't leave without looking like he was avoiding him so he stayed behind.

He hovered round a display of special edition scotch miniatures. The labels elegant little landscape pictures. The glass of cold Sauvignon Blanc was going down a little too easily in the stuffy room.

‘Like these so you?’ The accent was less like Sherlock than John had imagined it would be. A touch more of the east end and some other twang that John took to be a result of years abroad.

‘Honestly,’ John said conspiratorially, ‘I just like scotch. John Watson.’ He held out his hand, they shook firmly.

‘I assumed. Victor Trevor. Listen this is supposed to be a red or white only do but I can probably scare up a malt if you fancy?’

John nodded and followed the other omega as he flagged down a waiter and led John to a table in a quiet corner. Two glasses, generous measures with ice, appeared. John savoured the burnt peat flavour and the cool glass in his hand.

‘So, how long have you two been a thing then?’ Victor began. ‘ Sorry-If it's too soon, too private..’

‘Not long, a few weeks really. We were flat mates before.’ John swirled his glass not wanting to appear rude but not sure how much Sherlock would be comfortable sharing.

‘I heard a rumour he was maybe taking something, after he was clean I mean.’

‘Yeah, he, well had to stop. He got injured, it impedes healing so…’

‘That's when you got together? I'm glad. I always regretted what happened. I mean, I loved my mate and I'm so glad we had a family but..I handled it badly with Sherlock.’

John was surreptitiously watching the door for them coming back. He wanted to ask more questions but it seemed there was no need. He got the sense Victor found talking cathartic.

‘We were both on this chemistry course and I don't think either of us wanted to be there. I wanted to paint and he was just too smart, bored. My dad bullied me into going. He meant well, wanted me to have a solid qualification from a good university.’Victor paused to sip his drink, looking sideways at John.

‘Sherlock was so unlike any alpha I'd ever met, anyone I'd ever met. We were both physically naïve but curious you know ? Shit, sorry John.’ Victor touched his arm as he notice John’s embarrassment.

‘No it's fine.’ John said, taking a fortifying sip. ‘It's just weird that's all.’

‘I thought I'd met my bond mate so I took him home to meet my dad. Mum died when I was young so it had just been the two of us for a long time.  
‘My dad was self-made, came from nothing so…’  
  
‘Sherlock wasn't his sort of person.’ John broke in.

‘Not at all. He hated him and he told me so. Sherlock pretended not to be bothered, aloof, but he was.That sort of thing, anything social, doesn't come easy to him.’

‘I've noticed.’ John said with an eyebrow raise.

‘That's when he did his thing-read my dad. See he'd had been covering it up for years and Sherlock picked up every last detail. The prison abroad, where his money had originally came from everything.I was angry with both of them really. I worshipped my dad. Then of course he got ill.’

‘I'm sorry.’ John said, glancing around for Sherlock and Lestrade. He somehow didn't want Sherlock walking in on this conversation just yet.

‘Now I realise he'd known he was ill for a long time but then it felt like Sherlock had brought it on. I asked Sherlock to leave, broke up with him.’

‘When he died a few months later I dropped out of the course. Went travelling on my own for a bit that's when I first went to Japan.I had enough money to have a go at painting full time.Thing was I missed him John, felt like a bastard for splitting up with him the way I did.’ Victor stopped, smiling at a couple who murmured compliments as they passed.

‘When I went back to the university hoping to see him they told me he'd left. Someone told me quietly there had been drugs involved, that he's got in with a wild crowd.’

‘So you went abroad put him behind you?’ John said, it sounded more like an accusation than he had planned but Victor only shrugged.

John could see how young, bereaved, Victor would have wanted nothing to do with an alpha with a drug habit. Actually the damage Sherlock could have done to himself with an inheritance to fund his addiction was scary. Somehow the thought made him physically queasy. Maybe it was just the scotch on top of wine in the airless room.

‘I suppose the reason I'm telling you all this, plying you with scotch, is to make clear I'm not interested, not anymore. I suddenly realised how it looks, me coming back home like this and inviting you here. I'm glad it seems to be working out for him.’

‘Pleased to hear it.’ John said lightly. He could see Sherlock and Lestrade threading back into the room, bickering by the look of it. ‘I know we seem like a weird couple.’

‘You know, you really don't.’ Victor said, following the direction of John's gaze. ‘Who's that with him then?’

‘That's our friend Greg. I hope you don't mind us smuggling him in.’

‘No, course not. So do you know him from work or…?’ John watched Victor closely for a few seconds his eyes were following them carefully . Following _Greg_ carefully, with interest. _Oh_. John suppressed a smile.

‘Yeah, he's a detective, police detective. I'll introduce you. He's had a bit of a rough time lately with the divorce and all.’ John finished casually.

Sherlock had paused halfway across the room, he caught John's eye, before making a beeline for him.

Leaving Greg behind, he jostled wine glasses as he worked his way deliberately through the crowd.

‘Victor’, Sherlock said as he approached, never taking his eyes from John. ‘Splendid work, at least so people are saying, not my area.’

‘Thanks, almost a compliment I think.’ Victor replied with an amused smile to John.

‘John, it's time we went home.’

‘We've only just got here. You got a new case or something?’ Sherlock rolled his eyes.

‘I was referring John to your heat starting. You seem excessively warm, you're in shirtsleeves while everyone else is still wearing a jacket , you…’ Sherlock paused, realising perhaps now was not the time or place for a stream of deductions. ‘I can _smell_ you and I'm..well, we should go.’

John should have realised. Getting overheated had always been one of his first symptoms , ever since he presented. Now he was looking he could see the beginning of glances of interest, curiosity, from people nearby. While it was common enough to see a teenager being escorted out of a public place by anxious parents due to an unexpected heat. It was unusual for an omega John's age to go into heat in public. He was embarrassed for a moment then decided that was ridiculous. He'd been shot at, actually been shot. This was nothing.

He could see the effect he was having on Sherlock too. Eyes wide and dark, cheeks pink and the way he was carrying his coat in front of him-things were obviously progressing.

Sherlock sporting an alpha sized erection in such a public place was both a huge turn on and for some reason, hilarious. John laughed, the strain on his stomach muscles triggering a twinge of cramp. They hadn't been wrong about it coming on suddenly. He clutched his jacket to his belly and Sherlock moved to his side an arm reaching for him.

John saw Greg out of the corner of his eye hovering. Obviously not quite sure what to do. John thought, hormones making him more sentimental than usual , of the the way Victor had been looking at Greg. He picked up his tumbler, it still had a measure of good whiskey in the bottom.

‘Greg, here, shame to waste it.’ John pressed the glass into his hand as the alpha stepped forward. He noticed a very slight but unmistakable movement from Sherlock as Greg moved towards him ,a protective gesture, unconscious on the alpha’s part. In his current condition it sent an urgent pleasant energy coursing through his body. ‘Victor, Greg Lestrade, he likes scotch too.’

‘I'm sure we'll get on fine then, have a seat and I'll get you a top up. ’ Victor held out his hand and Greg shook it, before sitting in John's vacated chair.

As they left John was pleased to note a subtle lean in as the two took in each other's scent.

‘You have absolutely no idea what just went on in there do you?’ John said as Sherlock hurried him out of the gallery.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise for the rather soppy ending to this chapter (a bit anyway...). Seemed to me Lestrade should get something nice too after everything and it just sort of happened. 
> 
> Another thing, if you spot plot holes do let me know. I've still got a couple of things to tidy up in the next chapter but I'm sure there will be a case fic thing I've forgotten.
> 
> One more to go...


	14. Chapter 14

  
Sherlock barely registered John's comment about Victor and Lestrade as he splayed a protective hand across his back as they walked out of the gallery. He had never known the veneer of civilised society to seem so thin.

Several alphas passed them on the way out. They said nothing did nothing but Sherlock could sense what they wanted to do to John. Deduction and instinct in sync. He steered John towards the waiting car, Mycroft's car, and the omega laughed.

‘Really, today?’

‘He's not here. His driver owes me a favour. I made a call when you were talking to Lestrade. There was an incident when an ambassador lost...a story for another time perhaps.’ Sherlock broke off as he noticed John screw up his eyes with some unknown sensation. He helped him into the car with a backwards glance and a scowl at an alpha from the party who had been standing too close.

‘There's some water in that little compartment love, if you need it.’ The beta female driver smiled at John before closing the screen and leaving them alone.

As John settled into his arms Sherlock frantically calculated the time it would take to get home. Trying to factor in two sets of roadworks and a tube station closure. Beside him John gave a frustrated sigh and ran a finger round the inside of his collar.

‘Here, let me.’ Sherlock removed John's tie and opened the shirt down to his chest, letting the overheated skin breathe. It brought his nose close to the scent gland and the thick pheromones caught in the back of his throat.

‘I love you.’ John said suddenly, carding a hand clumsily through Sherlock's hair. ‘I wanted to say it now while I've still got a few wits about me.’

‘I love you too.’ Sherlock replied, voice suddenly hoarse with emotion as well as arousal. He was surprised at how natural the sentiment, the exchange felt. ‘How do you feel?’

‘Hot, hot and _fidgety_  is the polite way to put it.’ John smiled before burying his face in Sherlock's chest. ‘Fuck, you smell good.’John moved himself about, throwing his legs over Sherlock's lap back resting in the corner of the luxurious seat. Sherlock brought his hand to rest on John's outer thigh, just above his knee. ‘Now is not the time to go shy on me.’ John said, wantonly opening his legs and dragging Sherlock's hand upwards. He Laughed as Sherlock tensed.

‘Relax, I'm not suggesting you knot me and bite me in here just…’ The omega closed his eyes and pressed Sherlock's hand against his cock, hips pressing up against the friction. 'Not the same as you inside me of course but we’ll get to that.’ John held his hand in place and he took the hint, gently stroking through the fabric.‘I won't break you know.’ John said breathlessly, pressing his hand harder.

Sherlock was reluctant to start taking clothes off in the car, so public with his omega so vulnerable. He loosened off John's trousers though, slipping a hand inside his underwear. The slippery weight of John's cock in his hand was almost shocking as he glanced outside at the traffic only a few feet away. The windows were tinted but he threw the skirts of his coat over John's lap for good measure.

He pulled John close and kissed him deeply, hidden hand working quickly now. Deft in the motions that would bring John off hard and fast, give him relief. The way he was wriggling and moaning into the kiss John was enjoying the slightly rougher treatment. His orgasm was obviously intense, trying to stay quiet but his muscles bunched and his chest heaved as warm ejaculate coated Sherlock's hand.

Sherlock found he was half tempted to play with John a little more like this, with fingers inside him perhaps. He knew omegas had virtually no refractory period during their heat. He realised though that would involve taking off clothes and the indignity of that conflicted with his fierce need to look after his mate.

John was smiling at him,satisfied, grabbing his hand and wiping it off with a corner of shirt.

‘Better?’ Sherlock asked as John snuggled against him.

‘Much, for now anyway.’ John's hand rested on his knee for a few moments before sliding up his thigh. Sherlock luxuriated briefly in the sensation before firmly lifting John's hand away.

‘Probably not a good idea.’ Sherlock said sheepishly. His balls had never felt so full, his cock so hard and heavy.

‘It would make a hell of a mess I suppose. Anyway, I want all that inside me. Once we get home.’ John licked his lips as if in anticipation.  
John was right on both counts. True, even Sherlock had enough sense of propriety not to want to make that sort of a mess in a borrowed car. Mostly though something primal wanted him to be inside John when he came, to fill his mate with semen, John obviously felt the same. It was stupid really, John was taking contraceptives, they couldn't get pregnant, didn't want to (yet anyway) but the natural urge was there.

‘Mrs Hudson left champagne in the fridge, for after.’ Sherlock said, getting out a bottle of water and opening it for John who took it gratefully.

‘She's the only one who this has came as absolutely no surprise to.’ John said, looking serious for a moment as he drank and Sherlock didn't deduce for once, he just knew what John was thinking.

We almost didn't happen.

‘Nearly there.’ Sherlock said, pulling John back to him and kissing the top of his head before carefully tidying up John's clothing as they travelled the last couple of hundred yards. He surveyed the street as the driver pulled over. It was quiet save for a couple of smokers outside the cafe. One of them, an alpha, made a casual crude remark and grabbed his crotch as Sherlock helped a shaky John from the car.

With a dignity he didn't feel Sherlock arranged John so he could support his weight and walked him towards the front door. Throwing the deductions over his shoulder with a sneer. ‘Given your current financial situation and your back problems that seems unlikely.’

‘You know most alphas would just have told him he had a tiny knot and left it at that.’ John whispered in his ear.

‘Dull.’ He said as he opened the front door and maneuvered John inside, locking up behind them.

‘Sherlock?’ Mrs Hudson shouted coming out of her flat, drying her hands on her apron. ‘Someone left you a … Oh!’ She took in John's condition with a knowing smile. ‘Today's the big day is it? It's been a long time coming - I'll put any visitors off at the front door.’

Sherlock curtly nodded his thanks. Then, without a thought, he scooped John up and carried him up the stairs. Mrs Hudson’s cooing noise as she watched them go was ridiculous. It was simply the most efficient way of getting them both into the flat.

Carrying him the final few metres to their room though, the one he'd spent a long time a few days before preparing with extra pillows, that was a romantic gesture. The only one either of them had patience for now.

He left John on the bed to lock the door and windows. ‘Quickly!’ John shouted through the flat to him and Sherlock heard the tone that he suspected had led to John being called ‘Sir’ by the other alpha. He could hear the shuffles and curses as John hastily undressed. Absently shedding his own clothes on his circuit of the flat.  
When he returned to the bedroom they were both naked and it felt like things had gone up a gear, of course they had, _obvious_  The air almost felt curdled with pheromones and it seemed to make his balls (surely impossibly) tighten further.

John was on his back one hand curled between his open legs, not in modesty but looking for friction. ‘I don't mean to be indelicate but I need it in me now.’ John moved his head to look at him properly and frowned. ‘Christ, you look terrified.’ He sat up abruptly.

‘Sorry …’ Sherlock began.

‘No, don't apologise. It's good you're, taking it seriously, thinking about this.’ He took Sherlock's hand and pulled him down so they were lying side by side. ‘Just try and stop now though-thinking.’ John murmured as he pulled Sherlock's face against his neck. Hands in his hair. ‘Just a formality you said.’

The tension just evaporated, it was extraordinary, the chemistry of it. He felt suddenly clear. His need for John, for John to be his mate, the only thing in his mind. As John sensed him calm he rolled away onto his belly. 'This- that is to say arse in the air- is probably the best position for...'John made a gesture with his hand, avoiding Sherlock's eye. He realised then that though John was not the blushing virgin he'd been a few weeks ago this was new for him too, a bite a bond.

'Whatever you want-of course. Perhaps- for your shoulder.' Sherlock fussed with the pillows so there was no strain on the old injury.

A fresh wave of potent scent filled the room as John positioned himself, vulnerable. Sherlock's shaky fingers brushed across his swollen, wet flesh before slipping two of them inside , meeting no resistance. He gasped, the sensation was so different to anything he'd felt before before, warmer, slicker. The omega wriggled against him.

‘I'm ready. Later we can take our time but now-I want you in me.’ The omega repeated with a backwards glance. Full of lust and affection but tinged with impatience.

Sherlock slid his hands over John's hips, kissing along his spine, before pressing his heavy erection slowly inside. John was tight but almost pulling him in, immediately tensing and moaning as he came again. Just from Sherlock filling him. Sherlock couldn't help feeling a little pleased with himself.

‘Do you need me to stop?’ He said, chivalrously. It would be torture for him to stay still,less still pull out but he wanted this to be the best it could be for John.

‘Don't you bloody dare.’ John moaned breathlessly, rolling his hips up to meet the alpha. Definitely not much refractory period. The rough tone of command in his voice _was...interesting._ Perhaps at a less urgent moment it was something they could investigate further.

He filed the thought away as he thrust into John.  
A primitive rhythm that he would have thought brutal but for the way John arched into the contact, swearing breathlessly as he bared his neck for the bite. Sherlock realised that this would be over very quickly, too quickly perhaps, when he felt the extra resistance of his swelling knot.

His mouth watered in anticipation as he messily licked the scent gland, an arm wrapping around John's chest. _‘John...’_ He wasn't sure if it was a question or a warning.

‘I know. I love you.’ John said his hand pushing firmly into Sherlock's hair, pressing the alpha in place against his neck. Before Sherlock had a chance to reply coherently John pushed back hard and his knot slipped inside. Swelling to fill John who clenched and spasmed with pleasure around him as his teeth, with no conscious thought, broke the skin.

Later he would realise there was no sense of an act of force, only surrender, on his part, as he bit. Flooding his mate with semen as he gave in to his own orgasm. As he came back to awareness he tasted salt as well as the ferrous tang of blood and he realised he was weeping.

‘It's ok Sherlock,’ John comforted him, ‘it's ...we’re _together.’_

Somehow they moved to their side and he found himself sobbing against John's back, holding the omega close as they drifted into a heavy sleep.

##########

This was the time he'd remember he realised, still only half awake as John moved against his thigh. The bite had made the first time too raw, too instinctive to recall in detail. This time he would store away in the room, the library in fact, he has set aside for his mate. An echoing space in his mind he knows he will fill in years to come.

'Hm, just like this.' John said contentedly. 'In a couple of days this'll be round with all the come you've put in me.' He pulled Sherlock's hand to his belly and rubbed his arse against Sherlocks length. With a little repositioning of Johns legs Sherlock slipped back inside the satiny heat. By some silent mutual understanding they went slow.

This time felt decadent. Slippery wetness spreading across his skin as John moved against him. His cock thick and heavy inside his mate as he nosed against the bite on Johns neck, revelling in the still new scent of them together. John, he noticed, was more vocal during his heat, unashamed moans and curses of pleasure and satisfaction. Sherlock will never tire of hearing them but he does imagine Mrs Hudson below them, turning up her TV with a knowing smile.

After the leisurely pace the knotting was shocking in its intensity. John's body contracting around his knot so forcefully that his own orgasm was drawn out, draining-almost literally- as he felt himself pulse repeatedly inside his mate while every muscle tensed to the point of almost-pain and then went completely limp. The little death indeed.

John laughed, the sensation almost too much in his over sensitised state. 'Told you. I can almost feel it now.' He pulled their linked hands back against his belly.

As Sherlock caressed the skin he thought it did seem slightly rounder than usual - though he knew it was fanciful this early in the heat. He slid his fingers round the imagined curve wondering, again, how this would feel with a pup growing inside.

'You're thinking about it, aren't you?' John said quietly.

Sherlock felt awkward, like he'd been caught out. 'It's just-like this.' He rubbed John's skin.

'I know- it's the hormones. It's why I advise patients not to rely on condoms in their heat. After a couple of hours, some couples, they both want to be pregnant so badly they don't use them. I do want ...to talk about it at least, later though yeah?'

Sherlock just squeezed his hand in response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK - so I lied. This is 14 of 15. The bonding etc seemed to merit it's own chapter.


	15. Chapter 15

John felt his hips buck and tightened the grip on the curly head moving in his lap. 'Sherlock I'm close.'

'Hmm.' The alpha half growled around his length and he was done for. John came, going limp in his chair. Sherlock was kneeling in front of him, naked apart from the dressing gown round his shoulders. John was treated to a view of the alpha slowly stroking his own cock with a lubricated hand, bringing himself to a messy and copious orgasm. As a doctor John shouldn't be as impressed as he was by the volume of semen an alpha produced.

'How is it feeling?' John asked watching Sherlock clean them both with a towel and reflecting that semen may be the only substance his mate would ever willingly clean up.

'Better, still tender.' Sherlock said, retying his dressing gown. John's heat had lasted two days. Once the hormones had died down Sherlock's knot was red raw. It was, John knew, common enough a problem in new bonds. Both still randy after the heat they'd worked round it. Sherlock was more than generous with his mouth and the alpha managed to get a little relief himself with the aid of sensitive lube. Though penetration was out of the question.

They were interrupted by a tap to the door.

'Hello! Not coming in there was a delivery. I'll leave you to it.' Mrs Hudson giggled as she descended the stairs.

John, as the least debauched of the two, went to the door. Almost overwhelmed by the floral scent as he opened it and lifted a huge arrangement of roses and sweet peas inside.

'Mother.' Sherlock said, with an odd combination of affection and disgust.

'Yeah, even I could have worked out that one.' John said, placing the thing among the clutter on the coffee table and going back out to retrieve a shopping bag. It contained milk and a few other groceries along with a tea towel of still warm scones (Mrs Hudson was a saint). At the very bottom was a pile of mail. Bills and junk that could wait but a handwritten padded envelope addressed to him caught his eye.

He opened it carefully bringing out a note and a drive of some sort.

_Hoped you would know what to do with this. Missy didn't realise I knew where she kept it._

_Joe_

Sherlock had taken the drive and plugged it into his laptop. He shook his head. 'We haven't the software but I recognise the file type. Camera feeds.'

'From Graeme's places?'

'Almost certainly.' Sherlock smiled to himself.

'Surely that's just asking for trouble, in their business.' John said thoughtfully. Looking for Greg's number in his phone.

'The thing is, they're driven by money, can't have their employees-who are also criminals of course -stealing from them. Then there are all the blackmail possibilities. Give me a serial killer any day.' Sherlock said with disgusted shake of the head.

Greg answered at an almost whisper, another voice in the background. 'Wasn't expecting to hear from you yet. Congratulations.'

'Thanks. Something's been delivered here you'll want to see-Who is that with you?' As John asked the question he recognised the distinctive voice- _Victor_. 'Something you want to tell me?'

He heard Greg speak and then a rumbling noise as if he was moving.

'It's Victor, I'm buying him a late breakfast.' Greg said finally, sheepish.

'You old dog.' John said, gesturing to Sherlock and putting the phone on speaker.

'It's not like that. He mentioned the other night he missed a full English when he was abroad and I offered. He's interesting.' Greg sounded as if he was trying to keep down his own enthusiasm.

'And interested.' John replied, teasing.

'Hopefully. I'll come by later if that's OK.'

'Fine, don't rush your _breakfast_.' John emphasized the last word with a smile to his mate.

##########

Greg had a general air of pleased with himself. They all, Sherlock realised, had an air of pleased with themselves. After everything they'd been through recently it made a nice change.

'Here, we had a collection.' Greg shoved a silver envelope and a bottle bag into Johns hands. Sally said to say the scotch is for you, you'll probably need it.' Greg subtly covered his nose with his hand and Sherlock,remembering their visit to Joe and Richard, moved to fling the windows open.

Greg opened a yard issue laptop and plugged in the stick. The both stood behind him as he opened up the video files. Scrolling through the clearly marked dates.

Sherlock's phone buzzed in his pocket.

_Breakfast my arse. JW_

Sherlock turned to quickly smile at his mate. This close Lestrade did smell of aroused omega though he'd obviously made an effort to cover it with deodorant.

_Agreed. Perhaps you shouldn't mention your arse while we're working. Distracting. SH_

They both shook with suppressed laughter though it quickly became clear Lestrade was oblivious. Transfixed by the screen. 

'This is the alley, outside the brothel, you remember Sherlock? Where Lopez died.' Greg pointed at the screen where several figures moved about. One overseeing, directing with a pointed finger, the others moving briskly. The one supervising was Melissa Graeme. 'This is the day before we went there, after the ID.'

'They're cleaning.' Sherlock said, recognising the alpha they'd arrested. The one who was involved with one of the omegas. He was bundling up cardboard while someone else worked with a scrubbing brush and bucket.

'Is there nothing the day you think he died?' John asked.

'No, she wouldn't dare risk that, not even in her private archive. Chances are though, you wouldn't see much anyway, camera is pointing the wrong way. She must have forgotten about this.'

'But it shows her at the scene, trying to cover the thing up.' John said, pleased.

'It does more than that.' Sherlock said quietly. 'This is the night before Lopez's name was released to the press, a few hours after the ID.'

'Her schoolfriend, Ritchie, was quick off the mark I'll bet.'  Greg said. 'I'll tell you what else. She's got no good alibi the night it happened. Jim has but not her. We think it was an accident but...'

'She was the one who had it concealed. Used it as a way to test you.' John said softly.

They all smiled at one another. Quiet, not wanting to jinx it.

##########

_10 months later_

John looked at himself in the mirror, adjusting his tie while his mate primped behind him. Sherlock met his eye and frowned.

'Don't say it Sherlock.' He said in a warning tone.

'Greg wouldn't take the slightest offence you know, once he knows about your condition...'

'That was the thing I wanted you not to say.' John said sharply but they grinned at each other.

They'd only found out a few days ago. It was the morning sickness. Army food and sharing a fridge with Sherlock had shown John to have a cast iron digestion so when he was sick two days in a row within weeks of his heat he realised he needed to do a test. John knew that one day soon he'd wake up in a cold sweat with the realisation that, fuck, they were going to be parents but for now they were just delighted.

Sherlock stepped closer to lay a hand on his belly, nuzzle his neck. 'Don't alpha me.' John chided, putting up token resistance.

'It's only sentencing. Greg says it can often be disappointing anyway. If you feel they're getting less time than they should. After what we know she's done...'

'I know,' john patted his mates hand realising that Sherlock had worked it through the zip of his trousers and onto bare skin. 'I want to see this one through though. By the time Jim comes to trial I'll be due. By the time the police corruption trial starts we'll need to think about asking Mycroft to look after his neice or nephew.' They both smirked at this.

'I know. We'll manage.' Sherlock kissed his bond bite tenderly and John reluctantly dragged the hand from his belly. Trying to get back to the present, the work. 

'Remember if the press ask you questions...'

'I know, give smart arse a wide berth. I'll just be myself.'

'Did you even listen to me?' John laughed, his mate had changed a lot from the brittle eccentric he'd moved in with all those months ago. _Not too much though,_ John thought, _not too much._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who's read, kudosed, bookmarked and especially commented on this. Apologies (as ever) for the delay.


End file.
